#I drew the rain for dramatic affect and then I was worried that rain would put out a forest fire

[sapling-clangen]

SAPLINGCLAN, MOON 0

It begins...

Moon 0 (2)

[charliedawn]

Morpheus x Hope! Reader

~request

Tag list : @aurorarevenclaw1927

"What day are we today, Lucienne ?"

Lucienne peered up from underneath her imposing heap of books and important texts to glance at her lord's morose expression. If the heavy rain outside was anything to go by, she would say lord Morpheus was feeling quite melancholic..She sought to find the correct answer right away, surely his lordship already knew the time of day to its very second..So, it had to be an important day for him ?

She thought back and forth of all the possible answers, but couldn't find anything to say other than the shameful truth.

"I..do not know, sir. Forgive my ignorance."

Morpheus didn't reply, he kept staring at the rain and sighed. He should have known. He had done his very best to hide it from everyone, even his own subjects..Of course she wouldn't know. He hadn't celebrated it for such a long time, it sometimes even eluded him.

"...It's my birthday.", he half-heartedly disclosed and Lucienne's eyes widened at the revelation.

At their birth, each Endless had been given a special day of celebration, one that solely belonged to them by their parents, their "birthday".

Morpheus had never actually divulged the date to anyone, not to Lucienne nor to any resident living in the Dreaming. She had asked once, but he had glared at her with such animosity that she had promised herself to never ask again.

It did raise the question as to why he would break his resolve today—of all days ?

He had disclosed this long-hidden secret so nonchalantly, he could have as well waved it off as unimportant. But by the way her lordship's mood seemed to be highly affected by that fact, she didn't know if she ought to wish him a happy birthday, or keep quiet.

She picked the second option and waited for her lord to speak more. But, he didn't. They stayed in perfect silence until Lucienne decided it was best to speak, before her lord found offense in her lack of reaction.

"Would you want me to...tell the kingdom ?", she risked—unsure of what the right thing to do would be in the current circumstances. "I am sure we can still throw you a party or even find something to give you.."

"No.", he replied curtly—his eyes still staring far ahead at the gloomy landscape.

His answer left her dumbfounded. No ? Why ? Morpheus seemed to read her mind and his expression hardened as he promptly added.

"You have your responsibilities. You do not have the time to worry about such a fiddle thing. I just...wanted someone to know.", he confessed at the end and even though Lucienne knew he was right, she couldn't help but feel bad for her lord.

"Well..May I suggest something else then, my lord ?"

He didn't move, but didn't deny her request and she took it as a go ahead and continued.

"The humans are celebrating what they call 'Halloween' today. It is a sort of celebration of dreams and nightmares, and maybe would it interest you to..go down there and have some fun ?", she asked with uncertainty—as she didn't know how her master would react to the proposition.

Morpheus stilled for a moment before pondering on her suggestion. It would allow him to take some time away from the kingdom and furthermore, he never thought of Halloween as a feast for his creations, but now that he thought about it..Humans liked being spooked on that day, right ?

A sinister smile drew on his face. It promised to be entertaining to say the least. Humans were naturally scared of him, but he wondered if their reactions would change upon this unique night.

He summoned a mask and disappeared in a swirl of sand while Lucienne smiled knowingly to herself and returned to her duties. Morpheus would never pass on an opportunity to spend time with humanity, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

In a city somewhere :

Morpheus appeared and even though he was not alone, nobody noticed his rather dramatic entrance as he stepped out of the storm of sand with his arms raised and outfit perfectly unscathed by the waves of sand swirling around him.

He saw all those people dressed as many of his nightmares and couldn't help but smile at the tender picture it portrayed. All of those humans, unknowingly honoring him and his Dreams and Nightmares.

Morpheus still remembered the day he was created, he rose up from the very everlasting being of Time and Space and took his role as the guardian of dreams right away. There had been no warmth nor love in his conception, only duty to a people he still failed to understand fully. Everything seemed so chaotic and—even though he would never admit it—scary..But, he had succeeded in learning how to appreciate the things in his life, until they would eventually leave him.

But, knowing humans kept celebrating his work was enough to make him feel better.

He didn't know why they had started celebrating on this day, maybe a coincidence—or another one of his siblings' failed attempt to provoke him ? Nonetheless, it was entertaining to say the least.

He smiled.

But, as he was distracted by the many lights and decorations, he failed to notice the kid running right towards him. They bumped into each other and Morpheus frowned as he felt the contact and lowered his gaze to find a little boy there—out of breath and who fearfully looked up to stare at him. The little boy—who was dressed in a skeleton costume—momentarily forgot his initial fear as their eyes met and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Wow ! Sick costume !"

Morpheus opened his mouth to reply, but the little boy's face twisted back into an expression of fear. Morpheus thought it was because of him, but was surprised when the little boy hid behind him and gripped the fabric of his robe tightly as other boys arrived. They stilled for a second when they saw Morpheus, but one of them—the leader no doubt—took a step forward to laugh at the little boy.

"Look at that ! Jamie made a friend !", he mocked and the young boy's eyes widened significantly, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

When the mean boy grabbed the one hiding behind him, Morpheus instinctively grabbed the bully's arm. The young man froze and his face twisted in fear as Morpheus' face morphed into one of a creepy doll. Morpheus was surprised to find himself surrounded as they dragged the young boy he was trying to protect away.

He could easily take them all down, but he didn't want to make a scene or use his magic in such a crowded area..

Morpheus didn't know how to act and he knew he shouldn't interfere with human affairs, but when he heard the small child's—that he guessed the name was Jamie—screams as he was dragged away..A strange urge to protect him surged through him.

Rain started pouring around them and in a matter of seconds, he was standing before them in all his endless might, his hands raised and summoning black sand all around them. The band didn't know how he had moved so fast nor how he managed to summon send and when Morpheus' eyes glowed yellow in the darkness, they all stopped to stare at him, speechless at the inhuman apparition.

"...Release him this instant.", he ordered in the authorative low tone he reserved for his undisciplined Nightmares and it didn't take long for all the kids to release the kid and scurry off, crying and screaming in fear. He watched them flee before returning his attention on the kid who was still on the floor—stunned.

Jamie stayed shocked for a few seconds more before shaking his head and qui8 stood back up on his feet.

"Thanks..I'm Jamie. Jamie Larusso.", he introduced himself sheepishly before looking around, searching for something and Morpheus tilted his head to scrutinize the little boy. He knew he shouldn't be spending more time than absolutely necessary with him, but Morpheus was inexplicably intrigued by the young boy.

"Where were you heading ?", Morpheus inquired, partly because he was indeed curious—but also because he was worried the boys would attempt to attack him again. Jamie hesitated before admitting.

"I was going to see my grandma.."

Morpheus nodded understandingly before declaring.

"Very well. I shall accompany you then.."

The young man's eyes widened in surprise at the generous offer and another wide grin split his face as he asked excitedly.

"You..would do that ? Really ?!"

Morpheus nodded once more, even though puzzled by the genuine happiness the news caused the young boy. Was he expecting him to leave him stranded all on his own for some reason ? The boy took his hand and pulled him forward towards the outer ridge of the village and Morpheus frowned in confusion. Was the young man's grandmother living outside the residential areas ?

It only hit him when they both stopped in front of a tall and imposing gate where he could see graves through the bars.

Larusso opened the gates expertly by sliding his hand down through one of the openings to unlock the door from the inside. When he stepped inside, he turned around to tell Morpheus he could leave if he wished to, but Morpheus followed him promptly.

He knew this cemetery..He was sure of it.

His feet led him to one particular spot where the half washed away name of Jessamy Maria Larusso was written down..He had never asked for her full name. He didn't see it as important at the time, nor did she. But, he should have. He should have known she had a family and a grandson, but he hadn't.

They stopped in front of the familiar tombstone and stayed still, memories of who he used to call friend returning to him..The dear and brave raven who had stood by his side until the very end. Jessamy...He then turned towards the young boy who had tears in his eyes and was desperately trying not to let them fall. He was Jessamy's grandson. It made sense.

"Hey, grandma'. It's Jamie. I know we didn't really get a chance to talk a lot this year, but I miss you. Ma doesn't like to talk about it, but she does to. I just hope..I just hope you're having fun, wherever you are.."

Morpheus felt his heart squeeze at the memory of how Jessamy had sacrificed herself in order to save him. He had never entertained the thought of telling her family the truth. But, now that he knew about Jamie..He was considering paying her back by another means. He knelt on the ground and Jamie sniffled before looking at him with his brow furrowed slightly in incomprehension.

"Wh..What are you..?"

He bowed his head.

Dream of the Endless.

The king of Dreams and Nightmares.

The Keeper of Sleep and one of the most powerful beings in the universe..bowed his head in front of a human.

"I. Dream of the Endless. Promise to keep you safe and pay back my debt to my dearest raven. May your dreams be filled with joy and peace. You shall never know pain in my realm."

Jamie didn't know what to say or do. He had never seen this man before in his life but—for some strange reason—he believed him. He smiled and shrugged.

"Hum...Thanks I guess ?"

Morpheus didn't move and even though he knew this promise would be difficult to be kept, it didn't make him any less determined. Jessamy had been his most trusted advisor for years, and he would ensure her legacy lives on on Earth as much as in his realm.

Jamie looked up at the sun slowly disappearing behind the trees around the cemetery and smiled apologetically at his new friend.

"Listen, I gotta go home, or my Ma is gonna be worried. But, I'll see you around ! Promise.", he held out his pinky and Morpheus stared at it for a second before wrapping his own around his. Jamie smiled and waved him goodbye before running out of the cemetery. Morpheus' eyes stayed on him until he was out of view before returning to the tombstone before him.

He had never even gotten the chance to say goodbye. Maybe, was it time ?

He sighed and rested his palm upon the cold stone, his composed expression breaking into one of loss and mourning.

"My dear raven..To think so many years have passed since your departure to my sister's realm. I have met your grandson. A charming young man who makes me think of you. He is fragile, but his heart beats strong. I have pledged to protect him. I hope this pleases you, Jessamy.", he hesitated for a second before adding. "I'm..getting better. Or, I try to be. There are still so many things that I do not understand, but I..I still can't seem to love them as much as I loved you. I lack the words to tell you how much I miss you. I need you. Now, more than ever. I need..I need hope."

He waited. He didn't know for what. Was he expecting an answer ? No. He knew he wouldn't get any. He just..He just hoped Jessamy could hear him—that she would send him her strength and what he so desperately needed, what he had always needed—even after all these years..

A rattling noise cut him out of his thoughts and his head snapped in its direction, only to find a woman there—gathering dead leaves with a rake. As if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked up at him and her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.", she apologized and stilled her movements, letting a few leaves escape the pile she had succeeded in collecting. He frowned at the unexpected sight and shook his head.

"No. My apologies. I shouldn't be here. I'll leave at once..", he said promptly.

But, he didn't.

He kept staring at the half-erased name on the tombstone, as if it would somehow make the resident come back to life.

The woman stared at him for a while before asking knowingly.

"You lost someone..Haven't you ?"

Morpheus' throat constricted at the memories of his sweet Jessamy and even though he had no intention to share his burden with anyone, he couldn't see the harm of sharing it just once. Just this once.

Your pov :

The stranger remained silent, but you had seen that face too many times to mistaken it..He was mourning. You put your rake aside to join him, even though he hadn't asked for your company. You read the name on the tombstone and sighed. Of course..

"Jessamy Maria Larusso. A lot of people have come to visit her, especially that nice grandson of hers. I'm sure she was loved..", you mused and Morpheus tilted his head to look at you and he could tell you were speaking the truth. It made him smile. At least, Jessamy did have a good life.

"Who are you ?", he asked after a moment and you almost laughed at the question. Who were you ? As if he didn't know..But, you would keep the mystery for now.

"Me ? I'm the caretaker.", you glanced around significantly at the many tombs displayed around and the rake now laying on the ground by your side. You still had to sweep the rest of the dead flowers and leaves discarded around, but Morpheus really seemed down..He nodded wordlessly and returned his focus to the tombstone, deposing beautiful purple flowers there. You hadn't even noticed the flowers before, but didn't linger on that detail as he clearly needed some time to grieve.

You then thought about leaving him to his grieving, and maybe come by later to check on him ?

"Well, I'll leave you to it then."

You picked up your rake and started walking towards the area you still had to take care of. You thought he would let you, but were surprised when his voice sounded behind you.

"Stay..", he grabbed your wrist and you shivered slightly at the coldness of his skin against yours.

You stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the hand around your wrist quizzically, but didn't voice a question aloud. Morpheus opened his mouth to apologize for his abrupt and unproper behavior, but other words escaped his lips.

"It is my birthday today."

He didn't know why he wanted to tell you, but he did and the need for company overruled all of his usual concerns.

After the information finally settled in, you smiled widely and clapped your hands together.

"Oh ! You were born on Halloween ? Cool ! Happy birthday !"

"It is not.", he immediately replied and you frowned a little at his curt answer—wondering what he meant by that.

"It is not a happy day..", he repeated and his brow furrowed slightly as he kept staring ahead at the tombstone.

Oh..Right.

"Who did you lose ?", you repeated your earlier question—hoping for an answer this time around.

"Everyone..", he confessed. "My son..My wife..And every single lover I've ever had until now.."

You stayed silent. To tell the truth, you hadn't expected him to come clean so earnestly. Most people rarely opened their heart the first time, but you could hear in his weak and strained voice that he was tired and really wished to talk.

Well, you were all happy to listen..Only, you still had more sweeping and cleaning to do. You looked around and sighed loudly.

"Well, let me get back to my job for a bit and I'll be all yours for the night ! What do you say ?", you asked with a large grin—hoping he would grace you with the same—but Morpheus frowned.

Your occupation was taking care of a place dedicated to the dead. The dead would never see nor care about it—and yet—you seemed genuinely set on making him wait.

He didn't understand.

Why ?

"The dead do not care.", he found important to remind you, and you let out a small laugh. "Yeah. They probably don't. But, their descendants do. Besides, I'm pretty sure a lot of people buried in here were important to someone at some point. I don't think they would like their purchase to go to waste now, would they ?"

Morpheus fell silent after that and even though he wanted to deny, he had to admit he would want Jessamy's tomb to remain as beautiful as she had been.

"I'll...help.", he said and you laughed at his hesitation. It took a while for you to realize he was being serious.

"Wait...Really ? No offense. But, you don't seem like a guy who knows how to handle a broom...or a sponge...or even cleaning spray...", you continued and even though Morpheus had to admit manual work wasn't exactly what he excelled at, he did want his friend to have the resting place she deserved.

You must have seen the determination in his eyes, as you stopped rambling and only sighed loudly in defeat.

"Fine. You take this part, and I'll go finish the other end. Try not to break anything..", you said before giving him one of your cleaning buckets, filled with soapy water and a sponge. Morpheus stared at them quizzically and you had this feeling that you had assumed right..He didn't know how to use those.

"Do you need me to show you or..?", you ventured, but the Endless—who hated receiving help—shook his head stubbornly. "No. I will be fine.."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him before shrugging.

"Suit yourself.", you walked away and Morpheus waited until you were out of sight before tentatively approaching the bucket, poking the sponge inside and wondering if he would have to ask Lucienne for its use ? But, remembered she was busy and he didn't want to bother her. He had seen sponges before of course, but dreams never really included cleaning. People had better things to dream about, and worst things to nightmare about too..But, he still grabbed the sponge and threw it against one of the tombstones, expecting it to work on its own...But, was only met with disappointment.

He crouched down to pick up the sponge again and after a few seconds of consideration, decided it was unfit for an Endless to do such cumbersome chore.

He clicked his fingers together and in a second, all of the leaves were gathered into a neat pile near the entrance. Even the tombstones looked like they had been restored.

But, something didn't feel quite right..He looked at your end of the cemetery and saw it was almost as good as his, but you had done it with your own hands..You had spent hours on each of them—no doubt..

"Wet the sponge."

Morpheus was startled by the familiar voice and looked up to see Matthew. He frowned disapprovingly at the spying raven, but before he could voice his disapproval—Matthew didn't leave him the time.

"I know that look. You are upset that I followed you and wanna send me back to the Dream world. But, hear me out first. I've been a worker, and a husband. And by the face you were making a few seconds ago ? You feel guilty, sir. And if you want the feeling to go away, I highly suggest you start with wetting the sponge."

Morpheus felt...guilty ? He shook his head. It couldn't be. He couldn't feel guilt for a human. It didn't make sense..But, Jessamy's tombstone was facing him—as if silently judging him for his lack of dedication to the task. And finally, he begrudgingly agreed.

"Alright. As you are of use, I won't send you back..Yet."

Matthew held a small victory caw before repeating.

"Wet the sponge and use it to scrub the surface. Trust me."

Morpheus sighed in resignation and clicked his fingers again, putting everything back as it was before. He then picked up the sponge and soaked it in the water before starting applying himself to scrubbing the moss off her tombstone—under the raven's watchful gaze.

Two hours later :

Once your side taken care of, you decided to go see Morpheus and ask if he needed any help. However, you were surprised to find the man deep in concentration, putting the effort into the work. You looked around and whistled appreciatively at the sight of Morpheus actually dedicating himself to it and it alerted Morpheus of your presence.

He stilled and slowly turned back towards you.

"It's..not finished.", he informed you and you smiled at the somehow endearing dedication of the young god to the task..Well—young compared to yourself.

"Well—even though—consider me impressed.", you said approvingly and Morpheus found himself at a loss. He had never been congratulated for his work before. As master of the Dreams, people usually loved or hated him..But, it was the first time he was actually praised. It made him feel good, but at the same time all the more suspicious of you. Why were you acting so nice to him ?

He must have voiced the question out loud, as you chuckled and rested your hand on his shoulder.

"I didn't expect the place to be spotless. I'm just happy to see you actually put some effort into it. It means a lot.", you explained and Morpheus stayed silent—pondering on your words. You were happy for a job half-done and one in front of which—if any of his subjects had dared present to him—he would have been dissatisfied. But, you were smiling so brightly..You were genuinely satisfied ? He stared at you for a while in wonder, to the point where you thought there was something wrong with your face—until he bluntly spoke out.

"You are odd."

You burst out laughing at his brutal honesty, but didn't try to deny it. Morpheus' eyes flickered briefly from the tomb to your face...

Your laugh ressembled hers so much.

It was uncanny.

"Wow. I clearly didn't expect that. But, I did promise to stay with you once my work done and, here we are. So..How about I reward you ?"

He tilted his head quizzically—unsure as to what you meant exactly.

"What do you mean ?"

You leaned forward and grinned widely.

"Spend the night with me. And I promise I will make this a happy day for you."

After a moment, he returned your smile at the challenge and decided to accept—his interest was picked after all.

"Bold of you to assume you could ever impress me.", he said with a pretentious little smirk and your eyes gleamed with unspoken wisdom—as if you knew something he did not.

"Bold of you to assume I cannot.", you shot back and Dream decided that—for the first time in his long life—he didn't mind losing a bet..

But, he frowned again as he thought of the uncanny situation he found himself in. He didn't know you. And—most importantly—you didn't know him. And yet, you wanted to spend time with him ? He did ask for your company, but he didn't think you would accept.

"You aren't..afraid ? Of being alone ? With me ? We don't even know each other..", he asked after a moment—more by curiosity than worry—and you chuckled—as if the question itself was absurd—while shaking your head.

"Not a lot of things do now. I've seen many dark places and unsavory people. But, you just aren't it.", you said confidently and Morpheus smiled.

"Merely a few hours by my side, and you already think you know me ?", he asked—expecting you to lose that overconfidence of yours—but it failed.

"Oh, yes. I have figured you all out, Morpheus.", you declared confidently and the corner of Morpheus' mouth raised imperceptibly into a doubtful smile.

"Oh, have you now ?", he asked with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded and clasped your hands behind your back in a childlike manner before walking backwards to face him while you talked.

"Yup. You don't want anyone to know, but you're actually very sweet and fun. Don't worry though. Your secret is safe with me."

You winked playfully at him and another wide grin extended on your face.

"Well, you'll find me relieved.", he replied with a small amused smile and didn't protest when you took his hand and led him forward to your favorite place in the whole city. You walked past the Halloween decorations and the busy streets filled with dressed-up people trick and treating. Morpheus had seen Halloween in many kids' dreams before..Just never in person. Many said this day was his sibling Death' celebration alone. But, he had to disagree.

As all the people were dressed differently—not all of them as horrific or deadly creatures—and he found his siblings' influence as well as himself in all of them. It made him smile. It felt as if this wasn't only Halloween, but a day where all the Endless were reunited..Desire, Death, Destruction, Destiny, Delirium and even Despair..It made him think of their birth, where they had all shared the same purpose and weren't yet split by their own goals and selfish purposes.

A time where the Endless wished to learn about humans and understand them, rather than dominating them..Simpler times.

He closed his eyes and let himself be guided by you through the crowds. He didn't know where you were taking him—and maybe was that what they called the thrill of the unknown ?

A few minutes later :

You walked side by side in the busy streets and Morpheus found himself enjoying your company. You talked a lot, and he loved to listen. It felt nice to have someone to talk to listen to, other than his subjects and their constant demands..

"Dream..You've been quiet for some time now. Am I boring by any chance ?", you asked and broke him out of his thoughts. He hadn't noticed your sudden halt and turned around to face you with an impassive expression—all hints of his previous thoughts gone in an instant.

"Not at all.", he replied in a monotonous tone and you tilted your head with an eyebrow raised skeptically. But, you didn't insist. You kept walking and suddenly, Morpheus' ears were filled with music—a soft melody of forgotten days..He stopped to listen attentively to the melody and even though he was certain to have already heard the song before—he couldn't pinpoint the exact time and place. He closed his eyes and felt a delightful chill run down his spine as the memory seemed to bring him a joy he had never experienced before..Or, had he ?

He then felt a light tap on his shoulder and finally opened his eyes to find you in front of him, a knowing twinkle in your eyes. You seemed so much older now..Older than Time itself.

You smiled at him and extended your hand with a small smile.

"Dance with me, Dream ?"

He could only accept. There was something about the moment that inexplicably pulled him in, pulled him towards you. He was about to take your hand when one of the earlier rude children who had bullied Jamie ran past you and made you fall backwards.

You fell with a loud splash in the square's fountain and the music covered the sound. But, Morpheus' eyes widened and he glared at the crowd, searching for the kids with hid eyes and promising to give them very bad nightmares later..

But, far from feeling disappointed or upset about the situation: you smiled and started dancing—completely soaked and apparently careless as waved of water crashed all around you.

Morpheus stared at you in disbelief..He didn't understand.

You laughed at his puzzled expression and kept dancing in the water, even going as far as to throw water at Morpheus who took a couple of steps back, sending you a glare at your weak attack.

"Are you mad ?", he asked—dumbfounded by your strange reaction. Everything about you made him reconsider what he already knew about humans..

You giggled and gave him an enigmatic smile before gesturing for him to move closer, so you may whisper something to him. He hesitated, but finally indulged.

However, you didn't say anything and suddenly leaned forward to grab him by the lapel of his coat. He didn't expect it when you pulled him towards you and he fell in the water too.

For a few seconds, Morpheus was found speechless.

He didn't know if he should be upset about being so easily tricked or not, especially since your faces were now mere inches away from each other and your smile turned mischievous. His lips parted and his breath hitched as you whispered.

"Maybe I am, Morpheus..You tell me."

There was a seductive edge to the slight tug of the corner of your lip, as if you were waiting for him to prove it to you. The lights of the Halloween decorations twirled around your eyes and made them look as if a rainbow was dancing in them.

Morpheus prided himself on his absolute self-control, but there was something about you that made him want to lose it and just drown into madness with you. He pulled you flushed against him and Morpheus didn't care if you were still in the fountain and looked like lunatics under the moon light: he danced with you.

He danced with you, and he enjoyed every second of it. Let it be said, Morpheus was perfectly aware the situation to be absolutely absurd—as much as all the quizzical passers by—but he didn't find the will to care. He was having fun...Fun. Something he thought he would never experience..

He laughed. He laughed and you found the sound so beautiful—it brought tears to your eyes. Finally, Morpheus was happy. You thought the day would never come, but the rich and deep laugh was unmistakable.

He was so beautiful..

However, you unfortunately had to stop because of being wet to the bone and people throwing you quizzical and doubtful looks. You knew some of them would probably call the cops on you and didn't want your night to end in a police station..Dream clicked his fingers and you were both instantly dry.

It was the first time he had used magic if front of you. He thought you would be distressed—surprised at least. But, you weren't.

"Wow. Neat trick.", you simply noted—unfazed—and Morpheus' eyes searched an answer in your reaction, anything that would explain the reason for your complete lack of reaction—anything. But, he was not met with the answer he seeked as he only saw genuine warmth in your eyes.

"Whatever you are searching for, you won't find it, Morpheus.", you gently warned him—but Morpheus' expression darkened as he realized something..Something that made him draw back from you and wariness bloom in his chest.

"...I never told you my name."

You stilled at the realization and—knowing it was no use hiding it any longer—smirked and grabbed his arm. You were both teleported to another place, a high tower with wold flowers blooming everywhere and white marble columns—far away from the human world. He then noticed your appearance had changed as well. You now wore a long white toga and your hair was braided like times of old with flowers and gold sand which also decorated your eyelids and cheeks. You looked ethereal. Inhuman..

"Why did you bring me here ? Do you intend to destroy me ?", he inquired—his voice not betraying any emotion beside a mild curiosity as to the following of your plan. But, he eyes betrayed hurt and even betrayal..You almost felt bad about lying. You just needed to be sure of his intentions..It had been a long time since your last lover and even though the seers had predicted him to be your soulmate..You couldn't believe them without knowing him first.

However, now that you had spent the whole day with him, you were certain of his heart and worth. You had no doubt he was your destiny..

You intertwined your fingers with his and closed your eyes, leaning forward so your foreheads were touching. You ignored his earlier inquiry and asked another question instead.

"Tell me, Morpheus..Do you believe in destiny ?"

Morpheus didn't understand the purpose of the question, but still answered.

"He is my brother."

Your eyes widened slightly at the revelation and you clasped your hand in front of your chest with a large satisfied grin.

"Oh. Well, great ! I'm sure he warned you about me then."

Morpheus was even more at a loss..Why would his brother know about you ?

"He didn't.", he replied curtly. But, you didn't mind. You were used to his short answers by now.

"Well, your brother must be blind or senile, for it was written from the very beginning that we were meant for each other.", you informed him and Morpheus found it even if more confusing. How you could you be so confident over things that were so out of your reach ? Meant for each other ? What did it even mean ?

"Who are you ?", he asked for the second time and in a matter of seconds, your look of pure innocence turned into a mischievous one as you tightened your hold on his hands and whispered.

"Well, why don't you find out ?"

He risked his eyes downwards at your lips and licked his own. You were so very confusing, but also very tempting...You were his very own flytrap. You were an enigma he wanted to solve, but every time he thought he thought he had the right answer—it turned out to be false or the real answer to be fleeting away further from his reach. He really wanted to give in to you, but there was one question he needed the answer to first.

"What is your name ?", he uttered in a whisper and you smiled knowingly—as if you expected it. You leaned forward until your noses brushed against each other and smiled.

"...Ask me. One more time. And you will have your answer, Dream of the Endless.", you promised and Morpheus didn't hesitate before asking you once more with more purpose in his demand, desiring the answer even more than anything else in the world right now.

"What is your name ?", he repeated—firmer and more urgently this time around.

You giggled childishly, even though your eyes seemed old..far older than him. You clicked your tongue and gently ran your hand along the side of his face tenderly, your eyes sparkling with golden dust as you fixed your attention on the Endless before you.

"You know who I am, Morpheus. You've always known. You've asked for me every night since your birth. Well, here I am.", you pressed your cheek against his—leaving a light kiss there—and Morpheus marveled at the uncanny softness. He wanted to fall to his knees before you and grip the hem of your toga like a distressed child finally receiving the present he had always dreamed of.

"...Elpis. Hope of the Ancient.", he finally uttered your name in a whisper and you giggled again before wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Here we go ! I knew you would eventually figure it out..", you shouted cheerfully, but Morpheus' brow furrowed as he remembered all the lonely nights he had called out for you. All the nights he had felt his life devoid of purpose and in his prison of glass..

"I called for you..For centuries. You never answered my calls."

It was your turn to frown at the accusation and your smile turned upside down at the reminder of your poor Morpheus—trapped away in this cold house..You slid your arms away from him to wrap them around yourself defensively instead. Your eyes flickered downwards and you bit your lower lip guiltily as you confessed.

"And I heard you. Every single time."

Morpheus felt rage replace the warm feeling in his heart as he suddenly grabbed your wrists to pull you flush against him, forcing your eyes to look up at him in surprise.

"...You left me to rot. You heard my cries for help, and decided to stay immune to my pain.", his voice deepened and trembled—as if his voice was about to shatter at any moment.

Your eyes filled with tears at the unfairness of the object of your affections. He didn't know what he was saying..He didn't know how it felt to leave him alone—even though you knew how much he needed you.

"I couldn't help you. You weren't worthy back then. Your heart filled with want of revenge, instead of letting me in..I had to make sure you were worth it first. See, Morpheus..I do not give my favors to just anybody..I am Hope, it doesn't mean everyone deserves me.", you tried to explain, but your clumsy explanation only fueled Morpheus' rage as he spat angrily.

"You are cruel."

You closed your eyes at the coldness behind his words—but you had expected it. A lot of people thought Hope to be heartless, to appear when you don't need it and disappear when you need it the most. But, the truth is ? Hope was to be nurtured, fed by potential and efforts..

"I am fair.", you replied impassively and tear yourself away from his possessive grip. He was still angry, and you only realized now that you had acted too impulsively—thinking he was ready to meet and love you.

Another mistake.

You talked out of experience..You had tried to help people like him before—but some were simply not worthy of your love. Morpheus used to be one of them. He used to despise humans and find every reason to be condescending towards everyone..He had prayed to you, but had never worked for it.

But, seeing him today—actually enjoying himself among the humans and witnessing his respect towards Jessamy's offspring made you reconsider your decision. But, you were afraid you hadn't waited long enough..

"You feed on the suffering of others.", Morpheus then remembered with a slight frown—a lesson his mother had once taught him—and you sighed loudly. Of course he would know that.

"I do. I knew you since the moment you were born, little Morpheus. I could feel your pain. I was alive before you and will live long after you will have disappeared..I knew we were linked from the start. And you don't know how much it hurt to see you get rejected over and over again..But, I had to stay away. I had to wait for you to be ready..", you looked away and Morpheus noticed how sorrowful you seemed. You had bared alone the truth of your connexion for years..And then, the moment of your meeting was brought back in his mind.

Jamie.

You were there for him..The little boy seemed truly happy with you by his side. His heart longed to know that happiness.

"...If I let you in, will it hurt ?", he finally asked—wary of the consequences of your presence in his life—and you smiled weakly at him.

"I would never hurt you—Not purposefully at least. Are you scared ?", you replied—even though your eyes betrayed uncertainty—and your lips inches from his. His own eyes lingered there for a moment and desire overrode all cautiousness.

He shook his head negatively and you grinned widely at his response.

"Good..", you closed the gap between the both of you and Morpheus didn't hesitate before kissing you back. He wanted to be relieved of all that pain and regret he felt. He didn't want to think of his past failures and in just a kiss, he found his wishes granted. It was as if all of his worries were being sucked out of him and turned into bliss.

He had waited so long for you..He pulled you closer.

"Happy birthday, Morpheus.", you muttered against his lips and Morpheus smiled. For the first time since his birth, he had hope..He kissed you again and in the dark of the night, no one noticed the two shadows keeping each other steady.

Hope could be cruel, Hope could lead to madness, Hope could even hurt and yet—Hope was beautiful and irresistible.

Morpheus couldn't stay away, as much as you couldn't stay away from his delicious suffering..You needed each other and now that he had you, Morpheus would make sure you would never be separated..

[write-ur-wrongs]

Nature’s Nurturing Ways

Hi y’all! This pandemic has really taken the wind out of my sails these past few weeks (maybe months? Time is completely untraceable right now). This piece is born out of a lovely anon’s request, bolded below. As always, I haven’t proofread this mess, so please forgive the typos! I’ll do my best to correct them post-publishing. I seriously can’t thank you enough for taking the time to send me your ideas, and I promise I’ll get better at writing actual drabbles LOL. I hope you enjoy :) 

Hii can you write something abt Geralt being w a plant-based reader where she loves animals and nature? Tysm

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Geralt and Jaskier had been travelling for hours when the beating sun finally wore them down. There hadn’t been a breeze in days and the hot, stale air was starting to suffocate the uncharacteristically quiet bard, who wouldn’t dare compete with the surrounding cicada’s symphony.

“Geralt,” he rasped, “do you hear any running water? Drips or gurgles? I’ll take anything.”

“Jask, it hasn’t rained in days and it’s hotter than the depths of hell,” the Witcher sighed before continuing, “I said no yesterday, the answer is the same today.”

“Euughh!” Jaskier threw his head back in despair before hanging his head in exhaustion. “Geralt, I don’t want to be dramatic -,”

“Ha!” Geralt twisted in his saddle to look back at his friend with a quirked brow.

“- but I will fall off this horse and die of exposure if we don’t find water soon.”

Shaking his head, Geralt knew that despite the bard’s tendency to embellish, the situation was getting dire. They’d traveled this way dozens of times before and had always relied on the steady creek that ran alongside the trail for water. The region wasn’t known for dry spells and while Geralt was sure he could manage either way, his companion on the trail was not so durable.

They wouldn’t arrive at their destination for another three or four hours, at his level of dehydration and with probable heat exhaustion, Jaskier might not have that much time.

With another gruff sigh, Geralt pulled back on Roach’s reins and redirected her off the road and into the forest, turning back to ensure Jaskier’s horse would follow.

Geralt knew that there was a small clearing off the road where the thick leaves from the old trees made a lush, and shaded, canopy. He’d been there before a handful of times. It’s where he shared a tender first kiss, where he’d laid his head on Y/N’s chest before falling asleep feeling the cool, lush, grass cradling his large frame. It’s where he first said I love you.

Shaking his head slightly to pull himself from his memories, he dismounted and grabbed both sets of reins, leading the horses into farther the clearing. Once they’d reached the middle of the small field, Geralt released Roach’s lead and gave her a neck a scratch before leaving her to graze.

“Come on Jaskier,” he said, reaching into the gelding’s saddle bag for some food, “get off your horse and lay down in the grass.”

The bard fell out of his saddle with a thud while Geralt continue to root around the bag, huffing as he kept coming up empty.

“Did you eat the last of the cheese?”

“Mmpft,” Jaskier replied incoherently, face down in the grass.

“Hey –”

“Oi! You kicked me!”

“Where is the food? We had bread, cheese, and meat left over last night. Did you fucking eat it all?”

“No, you oaf,” he said, rolling over onto his back, “we ate the rest of it this morning.”

“Fuck!” Geralt cursed under his breath, pulling his hair up off his neck to cool off. He could barely remember what they’d done earlier that day. The heat had been unbearable all evening, and the rising sun only made it worse.  

“Don’t worry about it Geralt! No need to apologize for accusing me so harshly.” Jaskier said, words dripping in sarcasm.

Geralt merely looked down at the bard with disdain and rolled his eyes, refusing to admit the sun might be affecting him too.

“Shut up and take off your shirt –”

��Oh-ho!” he laughed weakly, wiggling his eye brows at the witcher. No matter how beaten and battered the bard may be, he’d never miss an opportunity to tease Geralt.

“No, Gods! Fuck,” Geralt went on, flustered, “the grass will cool you down a hell of a lot faster if you’re in direct contact. And besides, Y/N will kill me if I let you die of exposure.”

“Always so serious, eh Geralt?” Jaskier chided playfully, pulling off his tunic before laying back down onto the grass, “Oh-ho-ho-ohhhh yes… Sweet merciful goddess of all that is good, this feels amazing! Yes, yes, yes!”

While he was sure the bard was still mumbling gratefully, and disgustingly, at the feeling of the cool grass against his skin, Geralt’s mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in this clearing, wild heliotropes had bloomed and the sweet, almondine scent was pulling him into a memory.

“Geralt! Witchers use herbs, mushrooms, and flowers in all kinds of magic,” you said, your hands resting high on your hips, “I find it incredibly hard to believe that in all your years and extensive travels, you’d never learned to forage?”

“All my years, eh?” he’d replied, cat-like eyes gleaming back at you.

“Well of course,” you teased, “I mean, unless you mean to tell me that silver head of hair is a choice born out of vanity?”

“I’m going to make you pay for that later, Y/N.” He laughed, taken aback and a little impressed that you felt so comfortable with his mutations as to mock him playfully.

“Ha! Me and what coin?” you reply with a light laugh, bending over to collect the generous mushrooms growing through the bed of leaves and needles.

Geralt turned his head towards you to hit you with a winning comeback, but found himself lost for words when his eyes failed to meet yours.

You get up slowly, peering over your shoulder to find your witcher’s eyes on your backside. Smirking to yourself and quirking a brow flirtatiously, you toss a handful of dirt and wet leaves his way, hitting the poor soul right in the chest.

“Distracted, Geralt?” you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you straightened up.

Geralt swallowed thickly, desperately trying to string together at least a couple words – witty at best, coherent at least – when he heard a twig snap in the surrounding forest.

Quick as a flash, he drew his sword and his attention towards the source of the disturbance, a large boar. Chest already swelling with pride at the thought of providing you with a hearty meal, Geralt prepared his attack on the creature before him.

Seeing that the “threat” in question was nothing but a passing porcine, you dove before him with a shout, dropping the mushrooms on the way. Your scream coupled with your sudden movement startled the beast, and it dove deeper into the brush to escape.

“Geralt, no!”

“Damn it, Y/N,” he swore, “I could’ve had it! We could have had a decent meal! We – we would have been set for days!”

“No, Geralt! We have food, right here in this clearing. We needn’t take lives from the forest to eat.”

“Gods, Y/N,” he sighed, dropping his sword to the ground in frustration, “do I need to remind you of the cycle of life? Creatures live, they die, and they get eaten so others can live –”

“Yes, and by leaving that gentle giant to its ruminations, we’ve allowed it to go on, to feed its young, or hell! By leaving that boar to live, we might have secured a lifeline for a fellow wolf or fox. Geralt look around you; mushrooms, flowers, these thick leaves, those berries? You see that tree there? At its roots there are nuts, and over there? Those flowers? Means there is garlic. The forest will feed us with ease if we simply care to drop our weapons, and look.”

Geralt looked at you and with soft eyes, he took in the way your eyes burned with passion, the way your chest rose and fell with every energized breath. He looked around you and really looked at the plants around him, beyond scanning for any toxic or dangerous herbs, he did his best to see the forest through your bright eyes.

Looking at you he felt his chest swell once more, but this time the feeling was warm, grounding.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said quietly, pulling you into his arms, “so, so much.”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You knew he loved you. You had known for months, but you’d made peace with the fact that he loved you however he could, and that that would have to be enough, even if it meant you wouldn’t hear him say it.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet dove,” you murmured, reaching up to lay a soft kiss on his forehead, “I love you too.”

Geralt was wrenched from his thoughts by a swift kick to his shin, courtesy of the bard.

“Shhht!! Geralt!” Jaskier shout-whispered, still kicking at the witcher’s shins. “A deer! A d- dinner! Food! Geralt!”

Side-stepping out of the bard’s frantic little kicks, Geralt looked around him in a quick movement, spotting the deer with his hand primed above his sword’s hilt.

The world seemed to go quiet and still when his eyes met the doe’s. Despite himself, he could hear your voice in his head telling him that she’s a young, vibrant member of this forest’s population. That at her age, she’s likely a first-time mom or about to be. That she has more life to live and more to give to the land than be a poor man’s meal.

Jaskier watched in hungry-horror as Geralt waved his large hand at the creature, turning his back to it before looking down to meet his shell-shocked gaze.

“What the fuck, Geralt!” he spat, “what happened to “Y/N would kill me if I let Jaskier die”? What the fuck! That was food! Survival!”

“You’ll be fine Jask, shut up and lay in your grass.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat it.” He grumbled, not quietly enough.

A laugh rumbled through him as he walked towards to forest line, spotting thick dandelion leaves, mushrooms, and bushes ripe with nuts. He might not necessarily need to feed Jaskier the grass beneath his feet, but he was going to make him eat his words.

***********************************************************************************

“There you are my intrepid explorers!” You damn near squealed at the sight of them, dropping your basket of recently-purchased produce as you ran towards them.

At the sight of you, Geralt dismounts and runs to meet you in a tight embrace. You hold each other tightly, breathing in each other’s scent; his cedar, damp earth, and cut grass, and yours sweet almond.

You pull back just enough to look him over quickly and, spotting no fresh injury or new scars, pull your brows together curiously.

“Did you get lost?”

“Not at all,” replied Jaskier, clapping Geralt on the shoulder, “You’d be impressed, madam Y/N! Our dear witcher made quite the feast. Pulled me right out of the greedy jaws of death, he did!”

“Oh?” You said, brows furrowed in a silent question. Knowing what you meant, Geralt shook his head and kissed your temple to reassure you.

“Picture me this, Y/N,” Jaskier mused as he untacked his gelding, “I’m wilting away, inches from Death’s grip, and Geralt sweeps me under a lush canopy of trees and lays me in the grass…”

“Lays him in the grass? Should I be jealous?” you whispered.

“Never my love,” he replied softly, his forehead against yours.

“… then our honorable friend bid the deer a fond farewell, letting him get away! Yes, Y/N, there I lay, starving, thinking the sun must have cooked the sense right out of him when he marches out of sight only to emerge moments later with a bounty!”

“A bounty?” you mock-gasp, egging the bard on to Geralt’s great displeasure.

“Yes! We ate like kings in that forest, Y/N. All we did was eat but I felt hydrated and renewed! Truly a culinary delight.”

“A delight, Geralt!” you giggled, giving his waist a squeeze.

“Gods, won’t he ever shut up?” he grumbled, ghost of a blush creeping up his collar.

“Oh hush, my love,” you cooed, “without Jask’s bragging, I’d have never known what a big softy you’ve become.”

Wordlessly, Geralt looked down at you in mock-contempt, unsure that this wasn’t a veiled insult. He was instantly reassured though, when his eyes met yours.

“You left the deer.”

“I did.”

“And you foraged, found just what you needed.” You spoke softly, admiration and love rounding your features out beautifully.

“That’s right.”

“Now where did you pick up skills like that, my dove?” You chanced another tease, twirling a lock of his white, dust-packed hair around a finger before giving it a light tug, your head cocked to the side.

“Oh, I had an exceptional teacher…” he said, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist and bringing his other hand up to cup your face, pulling into a deep kiss.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 18

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader   CW: mentions of abuse, throwing up, depression, horrible coping mechanisms, implied sexual references   A/N: Read CW for this chap.

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 18: Love Isn’t a Magic Potion

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February 14th, 1976

There wasn’t quite another person like James Potter who knew what unrequited love felt like.

After years of harbouring feelings for Lily, making a fool of himself, his failed attempts of trying to impress her; she never seemed to take interest. Lily always sent him disgusted looks, never passing up the opportunity to call him a dirty arrogant toe-rag.

And sure, it phased him sometimes; her words cutting deep, but despite it all, James still believed in the fairytales, the sparks, the magic of true love, finding your soulmate — your better half. His parents were his main inspiration for love. Years — decades they’d been together and still, the love they held for one another, so fierce and unstoppable, it even shocked James at times.

A long time ago, when he truly understood the concept of love, he made a promise that he wouldn’t settle for anything but for the fairytales, the sparks, the magic of true love, finding his soulmate — his better half.

He wanted all of it. The good days, the bad days, the glitter and sparkles, the cheesy one-liners; long walks on the beach, nursing them back to health after they caught the flu, watching the sunsets, dancing in the rain — even the stupid petty arguments. He wanted all of it.

No matter how long it took to find them, he would; after all, everyone had their person.

Maybe that’s why he chased after Lily for so long — hoping for that romantic love — the love that’s made for movie screens — the type of love that conquered all. But he wouldn’t continue to beat on a dead horse, especially if Lily didn’t want that.

He wouldn’t force her and certainly, he wouldn’t harass her.

But, James would consider himself lucky, he found his friends — they were already his platonic soulmates and he’d go to the ends of the earth for each of them. His parents, the Marauders, Marlene, now Whiskers; he was always surrounded by only the purest amount of love.

He was never a person to cover up his emotions — hardly, that is. He wore his heart proudly on his sleeve, never once letting others dictate his life and the way that he loved. He laid himself bare, open, and there was a beauty to it that words couldn’t describe.

Love truly conquered all, whether it be romantic or platonic.

But to the women that fell in love with Sirius Black, well — there wasn’t quite another group of people like them who knew what unrequited love felt like — not even James ‘Oi, Evans!’ Potter could compare. 

Love is shit.

Love is cruel.

Love is unfair.

Sirius would go on date after date. One fleeting look and soon enough, he had women at his feet, falling for his devilish charm that captivated them in seconds.

They swooned over his chiselled jaw and thick glossy hair; eyes so mysterious with profound, moonlit mirth. The epicanthic folds highlighted his sharp and pointed look that they swore cut through them, searching through the deepest part of their souls.

He was a part or used to be a part of the oldest and most noble Pureblood families in the country. He was rich, of high status, French, could speak five languages and a mischievous bad boy straight out of your classic Muggle film.

Falling in love with Sirius Black was an easy task, so simple and it could happen in a blink of an eye. The realization would come either fast or slow depending on the poor lovesick git who let themselves fall.

But getting Sirius Black to return that affection was an impossible task.

He was raised as a gentleman and would play the part before becoming bored. They were all fillers, the people he dated.

He would admit it, he’s a bit of a dick.

He never fell in love with anyone he’s dated so far — never got past the fancying stage and even then, it was never strong. It never made him feel those butterflies that James described them as. His heart never jumped, never sped up fast, he never felt his skin heat nor did their laugh ever put him into a trance — nothing like what he described them to be like. If anything, he’d always break it off with the girls he found himself getting too comfortable with; always severing it before it became too much.

Although, it technically never was his fault that they fell in love. Most of his admirers like to daydream from afar, or they’d make a promise at the beginning — no strings attached.

Well for them, it did. It almost always ended with strings attached with Sirius holding a pair of shiny scissors at the end of fried thread.

He did not believe in the fairytales, the sparks, the magic of true love, finding your soulmate — your better half.

But that doesn't mean he didn’t want it.

But, above all, Sirius Black considered himself to be a realist. Unlike James, he couldn't — he wouldn’t let himself believe in that shit anymore. Love is disappointing and it does nothing but hurt you, nothing but a filler he used to distract himself with, no matter who it was. Love did not fix his fuck ups nor himself.

All of the adoring admirers, the ones that lined up for him, they would all leave if they caught a glimpse of the worst parts of him. The ugly, nasty parts. He used rage as a means of defence, he pushed the people he loves away, he was moody, dramatic and above all, reckless.

All they wanted was to take, use him for his body — they wouldn’t love him if they knew him. The real him: the ugly side along with the beautiful one he wore. The side that wasn’t always adventurous, daring, bold, brave… happy, go-getting.

Nobody would stay for the ugly part of him.

In that regard, Sirius was unloveable. Completely, utterly unloveable.

Currently, the uglier, caged part of Sirius re-emerged as he writhed around in his bed. Eyes moved rapidly behind eyelids, squinted in pain as he squirmed around, clutching the bed sheets tightly. His head flopped from side to side as he was unable to wake; stuck in a nightmare.

“You mudblood lover —” “Don’t call them that!” “Babies, Regulus, babies!” “It’s killing me to stay.” “CRUCI —”

Sirius woke with a jolt, choking on a strangled scream that clawed at his throat. His mind seemed to be encased in a wordless static, muting him to the noise around him as he felt the rapid, hard thumps against his chest. Distantly, he could feel his body raking in waves as the sticky, cold feeling of his sweat dripped from his temple and down the side of his face. It made his hair stick to his forehead uncomfortably yet somehow, despite the sweating and the overwhelming feeling of heat, he felt ice cold.

He swallowed thickly, sniffingly away the stinging growing behind his eyelids but failed as a few stray tears had already settled on his cheeks. Sirius looked around frantically, meeting the familiar red and gold bed sheets that were now pushed off of him as he sat upright in his bed. Red velvet drapes hung around the sides, pulled together as slivers of bright light sliced through them. It made him squint and focus on the surroundings.

Soon enough, it felt like a weight lifted off his chest, marked in unspoken forgiveness once realizing where he was.

You’re safe, his inner voice spoke firmly, It was just a dream. A dream.

“Wakey, wakey Padfoot!”

He had just enough time to wipe the freshly fallen tears away before James ripped back his curtains, jumping into his bed. He drew a deep sigh, avoiding James’ eyes and trained them to look outside.

Upon the grass and mountains, snow sprinkled on much like sugar over a cake. The distant chirping of birds could be heard singing their usual song, or more like an alarm clock, as they soared high in the sky without a worry in the world.

If only Sirius could be a bird, what a simple life he would lead.

“Fuck you,” groaned Remus, “He might be awake, but I’m not.” His eyes clenched in annoyance, throwing his blanket over his head.

“Well aren’t you lovely? Isn’t he, Sirius?”

“The loveliest,” he managed to grit out, throat groggy and dry.

“Shut up!”

“Okay, calm down big bad wolf.”

“Well,” he mocks James, his voice going an octave higher, “This big bad wolf can maul you.”

James beamed brightly, the ever morning person he was, unaffected by Moony’s response. Instead, he padded his way over to him, shaking him before Remus flipped the covers off his body, tackling him into his bed.

“Do you guys think I should cut my hair?” James managed to get out as he gasped. Remus sprawled out on top of him, pinning him in place as he was being crushed from his weight. “I want to make sure I look good for today.”

“You’re always in need of a trim,” Peter called out.

“You look fine,” Remus added, “Besides, you and scissors are not a good move right now.”

Meanwhile, Sirius’ stomach felt hollow, worry ate at his very being before he felt something rise within his throat. Quickly, swinging his legs over the edge, Sirius made his way to the loo in a rush while James and Remus were both distracted.

Peter was there, rifling through the cabinets with his toothbrush dangling from his lips. “Morning,” he said, not quite looking over to him, “Do we have any more toothpaste? I keep telling Prongs not to use so much…”

“Get out,” he managed to say before shoving Peter out of the door, closing it shut. He barely managed to cast a silencing charm before opening the lid of the toilet seat, throwing up. For the most part, Sirius gagged on air before finally attempting to collect himself, preventing hyperventilation.

Foolishly, even up until that dreaded night, Sirius had an ounce of hope. For what exactly, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was hope that Regulus might have turned out different, or maybe it was hope that he’d finally be accepted, even though he knew that would never be the case — never with parents like Walburga or Orion.

But every time he dared to dream, to hope, he was always quickly reminded why it hurt. Hope was dangerous, a false sense of reality — a taste of what people dreamt and chase for but could never quite grasp.

It was more addicting than any kind of alcohol he drank — or the girls — or pranks.

Eventually, he got up from the floor, jumped in the shower and followed his morning routine before wrapping a towel around himself and stepped out.

Sirius was drying his hair before catching a glimpse of himself in the large mirror in front of the sink.

Sirius had never been insecure about the way he looked. A part of him, the arrogant and narcissistic part of him knew that he looked good and he’d flaunt it. But there were times like today, where he’d look at himself, but feel as if he’s looking at a familiar face that wasn’t his — a monster reflected back.

He wondered if this is what Moony felt like.

For a moment, Sirius let his face rest, allowing the helpless, loitering fear and guilt he felt engrave its way onto the smooth surface of his skin.

The eyes looking back at him today were his father’s, his hair reminded him too much of Regulus, his high cheekbones reminded him of Walburga and the tired, slightly crazed look reminded him of Bellatrix.

A member of the Black family, that's what people saw when they first looked at Sirius, the heir of the most noble and ancient house of Black.

Sirius Orion Black.

Orion Black… Even his name made him want to cry out in rage. Another reminder.

Pushing back his wet hair, he studied the faded scar that disappeared into his hairline.

It was more apparent than ever that Sirius had scars.

But unlike James, whose scars were from happy memories of the Quidditch pitch, or Peter, whose only scars were from chopping chocolate for a fancy baking recipe — and lastly, Remus, whose scars were visible, laid out for everyone to see, Sirius’ scars were invisible.

He wore them day in and day out without anyone ever knowing.

With a blink, he drowned out his thoughts immediately; his dreams, his past, his thoughts were for another time.

He sucked in a breath, clicking the door open.

Remus was the only other person still in the dorm. He stood in front of the mirror, buttoning up his white school shirt before ducking down and grabbed his bag, shoving in books, his wand and any other loose pages of parchment that he assumed was for his little study group.

“Where’s Wormy and James?” He asked, not liking the way his voice sounded wobbly and hoarse. His eyes no longer peered up at his chap, instead looking around the room. Anywhere but his face.

Thankfully, Moony didn’t seem to notice, preoccupied with the now overflowing pile of Valentine gifts and cards on his bedside. He grew frustrated with them with every passing second as they littered his space.

“Accio bin!”

The black bin from across the room flew into Remus’ hand, quickly shoving the letters in but soon a guilty look flashed across his face.

Remus had always been too considerate about their feelings, perhaps Sirius should take a page from his book.

Sirius had a pile accumulating on the carpet beside his trunk; it seemed like more and more people every year were confessing their feelings, but this time, Remus seemed to be getting a lot more along with the rest of the Marauders. But he smiled, happy to know that Remus had been getting some action. He fucking needed it.

“Er — sorry, Pete’s off to Wood’s room to borrow their toothpaste and James —” Remus cut himself off, bringing a hand to the sides of his temples as he moved them in circular motions. “I’m pretty sure Prongs went to find Y/N. Something about finishing a sign or a song for today —”

Sirius bit back a laugh, “A song?”

“I guess he’s fucking Paul McCartney now.”

Remus passed him, disappeared into the loo, giving enough time for Sirius to get dressed.

It was his third dream that week about that night and it was wearing down on him emotionally. He was losing sleep, he wasn’t eating, he was reclining from the Marauders, he was so prone to anger; lashing out, yelling… he didn’t like how he was acting — it reminded him too much of Orion.

And the thought made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t want to be a monster.

Lost in his depressing thoughts, Remus re-entered the room. But instead of walking up to his bed, Remus halted, looking directly at him before he crossed the room, putting a protective, encouraging hand onto his shoulder. A serious and calculated look crossed his face.

“Do you need anything?” He spoke in a hushed voice, as if he were to speak any louder, the walls might hear.

Sirius felt unexpected annoyance brewing in his chest. Bloody fucking Lupin, of course he knew — using his heightened senses to sniff out his distress.

Unlike Sirius, who hid his emotions, who covered and buried even a sign of weakness, who searched for answers high and low, Remus was so blunt — clear cut with his emotions. He knew just what to say, knew what was happening before others did even if they hadn’t even spoken yet.

He wished his thought process was as clear-cut as Moony’s.

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” he said, faking nonchalance. Jokingly, he prodded Remus’ cheek with his finger, “Turning into Moomy, again?”

His friend did not smile, concern still latched on.

“You know I’m always here for —” Before he could say anything more, Sirius hastily grabbed his bag, slinging over his shoulder, bolting out of the room.

Hiding — running away from his problems — that’s what Sirius was an expert on. And like that, he switched off that part — the ugly, unloveable part of his brain for the day.

When Sirius reached the Great Hall, he wasn’t surprised when a dozen owls bombarded him with letters and chocolates. It brought a sly smile to his lips

What? He did say he was arrogant.

“Looking grand, Black,” Marlene teased as she observed the overflowing amount of cards already in his arms. She ruffled his hair as he was forced to take the seat next to L/N. Marlene turned to chat with Dorcas, who finally was back on her feet and kicking it.

“It’s not even eight and your bag is filled?!” Peter exclaimed, baffled.

A part of Sirius didn’t feel annoyed as he sat beside her. Maybe it was because his main stressor, the Black family, was out of the picture and he’d been desperately trying to control his lash outs, but Sirius was stumped. Since the break, especially after the ‘Muggle’ incident, he found himself tolerating her presence.

Just a bit.

He understood why James, Remus, Lily, Marlene; why everyone took a liking to her.

But he had an inkling as to why.

Although, his mixed feelings towards her were not helping in the slightest as he dealt with the string of recent events in his life.

She was the one that spoke first, which surprised him.

“Ugh —” Y/N fiddled with the hem of her robes, “Kettleburn wants us to switch the Puffeskin between us. I was thinking since we’re in the same house, we could keep it in one of our dorms. I was thinking about keeping it in yours.”

“Why not yours?”

“They liked to hatch in warm places. Your dorm has a fireplace, right? I remember James telling me you had one… And it would make it easier since women can go into the boy’s dorms.”

For some reason, he couldn’t stop himself — he just couldn’t. “I bet you’re trying to get off quick.”                

The accusations did not sit right with her.

For someone like Sirius, someone who dealt with the worst shit imaginable; someone who'd been beaten down, both metaphorically and literally — someone who by the textbook was supposed to curl in on himself — keep to himself, be small, avoid drama, don’t cause arguments — Sirius did anything but that. Everything he did, he made sure to cause a reaction.

“No —”

“Are we about to argue because you want to win, or is it because you want to learn?.”

“You’re so arrogant. I don’t need you for grades. Your brain probably grew twice in size when I turned you into a dog.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Then why are you replying?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Very creative.”

“Do you ever just shut up?” She snaps. Her face inched closer to his.

Unbeknownst to her, for a second, a second that he’d never admit, Sirius' brain falters. They hadn’t been this close to each other since that day after Kettleburn had assigned their group project. He catches the smell of faint floral — tulips, he thinks. Or maybe vanilla? Books? Tea? He couldn’t place it.

But his heart did a funny thing. It never does a funny thing like that and it concerns him. He wasn’t sick, was he?

Silence lingers.

L/N scoffed, “Well finally, it looks like you have.”

Although, she seems completely unphased by their closeness.

“Huh, you really do shut up.”

He snorts, his brain finally working again. “You nag an awful lot.”

“Well, you —”

“Whiskers. You’re a woman, how do I look?” James asked. He came bouncing up to them across the hall from the entrance. He twirls a little, showing off his outfit. In one hand, he held a sign and a bunch of roses. “Would you fancy me?”

“Dropping hints, are we, Potter?” She smirks playfully, “Anyway, I know you nicked that from Sirius.”

Sirius looked over to him, his head nodding up and down but was surprised that she noticed the difference, “She’s right, that is mine. Maybe that’s why you look so good.” He meant for the remark to come off as a joke, but cringed as the words spewed from his mouth. He sounded like a complete arse. 

James ignores him, “I have everything planned.” Then, he holds up a sign, all in baby pink with hearts dancing across the page as a huge message declaring his affection for Emmeline was written in bold fonts. I looked fairly cheesy, but that was James for you. A romantic at heart.

“Well,” he starts, clearly happy, “Do you like it?! I’ve also got a song written!”

“Remember the last time you wrote someone a —”

Y/N kicked him, hard, under the table, which caused Sirius to look at her sharply before his face turned annoyed again. She hadn’t even glanced his way yet. She continued to calm James down, giving him a pep talk while Sirius would jump in with encouraging words.

“Of course we love it — is it for Lily or —”

James shakes his head and they both knew who he was referring to.

“— Then Emmeline will love it even more! Get the girl, Bambi!”

James smiled triumphantly, sticking his fist out for a fist bump before running off happily towards the Ravenclaw table.

“Y’know,” Y/N starts, talking to Sirius as they both watch as James gets up on the table, preparing to serenade Emmeline in front of the entire Great Hall with a guitar that vaguely looks like Remus’. “You can choose not to be a dick.”

Surprisingly, he laughed, small, but there. And then, he finds himself responding to her comments, “I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.”

Sirius’ eyes widened, feeling his mouth go dry. He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes fluttering shut a couple times. It didn’t help that she smirked at his reaction and it made Sirius feel funny. An odd swoop piddled at the base of his stomach.

“I’ll take that into consideration for later,” he settled on.

Remus and Lily waltzed into the room, both holding small cards of their own. L/N and Sirius shuffled over as much as they could to fit in with both Remus and Lily. 

A part of Sirius’ routine had started incorporating Lily doing his hair. Most often, she did pretty braids or buns — but of course, not without James pouting to him later. He only hoped that with Emmeline’s new presence, James would stop.

“Ooo la-la!” Y/N mocked, swiping one of the cards from Lily and Remus. “You two are popular.” She turned to face Lily.

“It’s n-nothing, really, “Lily stuttered, her head ducking down. But her eyes seemed to look up at her, seemingly in hope of some recognition.

“Don’t be so modest!”

“A-hem!” James’ bostal voice. His foot wobbled on the edge of the table that made them all nervous if he were to fall. He finally concluded his song. Lily looked over and smiled, glad to know that James had finally chosen a different target to annoy.

“Fuckin’ barmy,” Remus muttered out, a hand going to cover his mouth in suspense. His hand travelled down to his chin-stroking his jaw.

“Emmeline, thou beauty —”

“Oh my god,” groaned Remus again, sinking in his seat from the second embarrassment but smiling nevertheless.  

However, Marlene whopped loudly, a large grin on her face.

Lily looked over to the scene, her eyes finding their way back to L/N, Peter paled slightly at the scene, Marlene was howling in laughter along with Sirius.

But much like himself, L/N found herself laughing with them too.

Her laughter rang out, and Sirius found himself drawn to the noise. But what was worse, was that he wanted to hear it again.

And even though he knew that other women and even men were staring at him right now, ready to give him all their affection and attention, Sirius found himself unable to look away from her.

He felt his palms getting sweaty, his heart beat harder, he wanted to sit closer to her and a smile tugged at his lips but he forced it down.

Fuck.

It was almost as the realization hit him there like a thousand tidal waves.

His heart jumped, it sped up fast, he felt his skin heat and her laugh put him into a trance — everything like what James described it to feel like.

If it was what he thought it was, Sirius wasn’t quite pleased with his newfound knowledge. He already had too much shit to deal with and certainly, someone like her was not worth it.

As the thought arose, there was something else that pulled him from these thoughts; it was the very shit that Sirius was dealing with, coming to haunt him again.

Regulus entered the Great Hall and Sirius had the urge to run to the nearest bin again. He hadn’t seen him since that night.

Within seconds, Regulus sensed his gaze and their eyes locked.

He wasn’t proud of Regulus, if anything, Sirius resented him — hated him and his entire body spiked in anger as he stared at him. He chose his path. But he couldn’t help but feel immense, dreadful guilt.

He could’ve done more, been there for him more, talked to him more. There were so many possibilities, so many outcomes and Sirius managed to end up with one of the worst paths imaginable.

He both wanted to scoop him up in his arms, cry — hold onto him tight like how they used to years ago, but the other part also wanted to take a Beater’s bat and swing a Bludger at his head.

His head shook slightly, just enough for Regulus to get the hint.

There was a hard, hopeless expression on Regulus’ face as he seemed to take a sharp inhale, his shoulders slumping within every passing second.

They were from two separate worlds, more evident than ever now. They weren’t brothers, not really.

Two of the brightest stars were torn apart forevermore.

Once the bell rang, Sirius sprang out of his seat and walked down the halls. He dodged owls, letters, chocolates and even a few love potions. There was a familiar void that punched its way through Sirius’ chest.

It was too early for firewhiskey, he couldn’t get knackered, he couldn’t talk to James, not when he was this happy and getting a pack of smokes from Remus — he’d bloody know within seconds what was wrong and call a Marauder's meeting or sort out some intervention for his sanity. Besides, he needed to apologize to Peter for how he acted that morning.

So the next best thing; snogging — a quick shag.

The next girl that tossed a flirtatious wink his way, he immediately approached. She was pale, had brown hair, soft skin and he vaguely recognized her but couldn’t quite place it. They flirted, Sirius would suggest it, she smiled, nodding her head and giving out a breathless sigh as Sirius dove for her lips, walking into the nearest broom closet.

Things were fast, almost a blur. She reached down, fumbling with his buckle before it clanked to the floor; he unbuttoned her top, hoisting her up and pushing them against a wall. She let out soft whimpers and he groaned into her neck.

The sensation, the building pleasure had left as soon as it came, leaving him feeling empty once more. He peeled off the girl, checking if she was alright like every other time. He didn’t know her name, forgetting it, and smiled awkwardly as she dressed.

He watched her leave the broom closet, the door clicking softly behind her. He could hear the faint scuffle of her shoes as she skipped down the hall excitedly. She had gotten what she wanted, a piece of Sirius; the Sirius that he put out — the pretty, nicely packaged Sirius.

Bent down, sinking to the floor, rocking on the balls of his feet, arms wrapped tightly around his legs and his head resting on his knees; emotions pooled through Sirius, attacking his frail heart.

Sirius laughs; it was dry, sad, pathetic, defeated. It was hard enough to hide with smiles, pranks, the random girls, sex, but those happy hormones that he craved, it was never, ever enough.

He couldn't go on like this, he had to fix something because something else was bound to break.

His laughing became strained as the walls of his throat began to close, eyes filling with tears. But now, finally alone, he let them cascade freely as his quiet sobs echoed in the dusty closest.

Love isn’t a magic potion.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【I hope it was clear in this chapter that in no way am I trying to romanticize Sirius's trauma】

[nctsoftskz]

Shy love | bang chan

Word count: 2.7k Pairing: shy! reader x e-boy!, skater! Chan Genre: fluff, romance, cliché af A/N: I know I’m very absent and it’s badly written, but I’m not at my best rn and I suddenly got into my Chan’s feels (i dreamt about him last night 🥺) I’m sorry!! i stg he’s too handsome to be real 

Sitting on the bus with your headphones, you dramatically watched the scenery went by at full speed. You needed to go at the other side of the town for an appointment and you decided to try another route to reach your destination point. You had always ridden the train, but at those hours, it was most likely to be packed, and you hated it. Here, you were sitting at the back of the bus, not a lot of people around you. As you neared another bus stop, a group of nine boys mounted the bus, laughing and holding cans of beer and their skateboards or scooters. They were pretty loud, earning side glances from other people riding the bus. You quickly looked at each of them, but you brought your attention back to the cityscape out of the window.

After a few more minutes, the boys had quieted down a bit, giggling and snickering here and there, but something felt odd. You felt like someone was staring at you. You truly hoped that it wasn’t someone creepy, that it was just someone that tried to recognise you.

You turned your head in direction of the staring and you met big hazel eyes. Your heartbeat started increasing and you started feeling hot, studying the boy’s face for a few seconds before looking away out of embarrassment. You felt him doing the same and when you stared at the floor, laughter getting louder on the boy’s side. He looked at you again, but you ignored him, trying to focus on your music and the rainy streets. You pressed the button to stop the vehicle at your bus stop, gathering your stuff and putting your raincoat on. You gulped and gripped a handle, preventing you from falling. As you were about to go off the bus, you stared at the hazel boy one last time and hurried to your appointment, running in the rain.

You found yourself riding the bus more often, a public transport less used by people during rush hour. This time, it was sunny, and you had your sketchbook in hand, trying to draw the boy that you saw last time. You still sat at the back of the bus and music was your only friend, helping you to focus on your artistic task. When you looked up to crack your neck, you immediately sank your head back in your drawing, noticing the skater boys boarding the bus. You held your breath, as if it would make you smaller and voices you recognised started getting quieter, noticing that the boys stood a bit further away from you than last time. You exhaled and forced yourself to not look up, not wanting to be caught staring. Each time one of them talked, you wondered if it was him speaking or not, some voices sending more chills in your body than others.

Lowering your music to hear your stop announcement, you focused on your drawing again as you heard that you still had a long way to go. “Hum, excuse me? Do you mind if I sit here?” a deep yet gentle voice asked and you looked up, immediately shutting your sketchbook. You nodded and clumsily gathered your stuff to make room for him. It was the hazel boy. “What’s your name?” he asked, and you felt like dreaming. Was he interested in you? “I’m… Y/N,” you quietly said and took off an earpiece, briefly looking at him. “And you are?” “I’m Chris, but everyone calls me Chan,” he answered, and you nodded, not really knowing what to do. You were panicking and anxious, whereas Chan looked extremely chill next to you. You stared at his friends, who were looking at the two of you with playful eyes, mocking and teasing their friend for approaching you.

“Don’t mind them,” he said as he followed your gaze, making you turn your head to look at him, “they’re making fun of me, not you, but don’t worry.” “But why are they behaving like this?” you asked and he chuckled. “I’m actually the only one that has the guts to go talk to a girl,” you nodded and clutched your sketchbook against your chest. “Oh, you draw? That’s so cool,” he said as he pointed your small black book and nodded again, smiling. “Yes, it’s one of my hobbies, along with painting,” you said and Chan’s mouth opened to form an “o”, impressed. “That’s so sick,” his smile showed dimples and you felt your breath catching in your throat at the sight, “can I see it?” “Oh hum, I’d rather not if you don’t mind,” you awkwardly said and your grip on your notebook tightened, but you were immediately relieved when Chan nodded. “It’s okay, I know it can be pretty personal, one of my friends over there also likes to sketch but he never shows everything to us,” you gratefully smiled at him and he sent it right back to you, eyes turning into crescent moons. You looked away, flattening your floral dress on your thighs, not knowing how to keep the conversation going. “If I can’t get to see your artworks, can I get your number instead?” you cleared your throat and pursed your lips at his words, not expecting him to be this straightforward. You thought two seconds about it and nodded, making Chan’s smile widen. You shakily took the phone he was handing you and double checked that you entered your correct phone number and gave it back to him with a shy smile. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Chan, but I’m going off here,” you mumbled and the boy grabbed his skateboard and stood up with you. “Wait, you’re going off here as well?” you asked and he nodded, making your brows furrow. “I don’t live far from here, so I can be around you a bit longer. Only if you don’t mind, I can jump right back in the bus if I bother you.” “No, not at all, it feels kind of nice to have someone with me,” you said as you struggled to put everything in your bag. Chan stood in front of you and held the bottom of your bag, allowing you to put everything in it like you wanted. “Thanks,” you mumbled and slightly shook his head, telling you that it was nothing.

You got to meet Chan a bit more than only in the bus. You were slowly warming up to each other, feeling like a teenager in love when you looked at him. You knew that his looks wanted to make him look unapproachable, but when he was in private, he was a whole other boy. He was smiling, very touchy and gentle, making you crazily blush when he was around. 

One evening, you were bored as hell and your parents had to attend a professional meeting together. You texted Chan around twenty minutes ago, but you were still left unanswered. You sighed, pondering about going to bed early or just watch a series. As you were about to go fetch yourself some snacks in the pantry, your smartphone emitted a sound, notifying you from a message.

I’m skating right now, do you want me to come over? you read his text and sighed, still undecided about what you actually wanted to do. Can I come watch you instead? You sent back and locked your phone, dropping it on the bed. His answer wasn’t long in coming. Of course, honey. Make sure to bring a sweater or something warm, it’s getting windy 😉

You smiled and sprung from your bed, putting a sweater above your t-shirt and a pair of leggings before leaving your room. You grabbed water from the fridge, as well as snacks and two apples. Locking your front door, you ran to the bus stop as you heard the bus coming, signalling your presence to the driver to make him stop. Once you arrived at the skatepark near the beach, the salty wind made you inhale deeply, loving the current atmosphere. You noticed only two skateboarders, recognising Chan as one of them. The rest of the people populating the park were skaters, sending ticks mid-air as you passed by them. You carefully walked to Chan, who noticed you and sat on his board while waiting for you. You handed him a bottle of water and an apple, surprising him by your gesture.

“Thank you? That’s so nice of you,” he said gently smiled, watching him gulp down a few sips of fresh water in one go. “You must be tired and thirsty, so I thought that I’d bring something for you,” he passed his arm around your shoulder and drew you towards him, swiftly kissing your temple. Your stomach churned at the action, it was the first time that he showed you affection aside from flirting and complimenting you. You looked at him and he chuckled, his fluffy hair dancing with the wind.

“What? Want me to do it again?” you giggled and looked away. “Not for now,” you answered as you observed the riders clapping and cheering at each other for a trick they managed to succeed. “Wave to me when you want affection, then,” he winked and you shook your head with a smile, stuffing his apple in his mouth. He slightly turned his head away and grabbed your wrist, only to allow him to properly bite into the apple. He munched on it with a happy smile, wiping the juice of the fruit falling from his lips with the back of his hand. “It’s nice to take a break from skating with you,” he said out of nowhere as his eyes got lost in the sea in front of you. The sun was about to set, and the last rays warmed you up from the chilly wind, goosebumps flooding your body. “I feel at peace when we’re together,” you mumbled as you bit into your apple, “I feel like all my worries and anxiety suddenly vanish, it almost feels weird to feel good.” “I’m glad you feel like that when I’m around,” he looked at you with a soft smile, his foot on his board, making it roll back and forth. He stood up, gently letting go of the hand you didn’t notice him hold and speeded on his board, showing you off his skills. You didn’t really care about skateboarding, the only things that mattered to you was the smile on his face when he succeeded a trick or when he looked at you.

Without having him noticing, you took your sketchbook out of your bag and found a pencil in the back pocket and started sketching Chan as he was waiting for the park to clear out a bit. He had the top of his board in his hand, looking away from you with the beach behind him, looking like he was posing. Maybe he was, but you were too immersed in your sketching to care. You curled up a bit on yourself, trying to keep the warmth as close to you as possible. Chan stayed like that for a few more seconds, allowing you to finish the rough draft of his silhouette. Then, he started riding his board again, sometimes closing your eyes to remember details of him and his handsome face.

“Have you gotten bored?” Chan joked as he came back after a while, wiping the light sweat off his forehead and sat down next to you again. You chuckled and put your pencil down, closing the notebook between your fingers. “Nah I’m fine, let’s say that I suddenly got inspired.” His eyes went from your face to your notebook and he pointed at it. “I still can’t have a look at it, can I?” you shrugged and he faked an annoying huff, pushing his hair back and deeply breathed. “It’s not that good, but you can see it. Only that page, I’ll murder you if you flip through it.” He smirked at your warning and opened the sketchbook, his eyes widening at your drawing of him. “It looks so good! So real!” he said as he took a closer look of your piece of art. “I want a poster out of that, Y/N, you’re so talented.” “Chan, it’s just a rough sketch,” you humbly mumbled as you tried to get your sketchbook back, but he extended his arm away from you, teasing you by trying to flip the page with his thumb. “Stooop,” you whined and Chan smiled, softly grunting as you laid your hand on his thigh, shifting your weight to try and grab your precious item.

“I’ll give it back to you only if you kiss me,” he said in your ear and you almost fell at his words. You looked at him and your eyes widened at your sudden proximity, red softly decorating your cheeks. Chan was smirking as he still held your notebook above your heads, arm slowly going numb as you took your sweet time to stare into each other’s eyes. You slowly leant and grabbed his jaw, making sure that he wouldn’t move his face as you kissed the soft skin of his cheek. He huffed as you ruined his entire plan but gave you your sketchbook back anyway. 

“You’re so not funny,” he mumbled as you put everything that belonged to you in your bag. Zipping it up, you smiled at him and went to sit on his legs, surprising him. You weren’t usually the one to initiate skinship, but he wasn’t complaining when you did. Chan’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and thighs, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His nose touched your neck and you gasped as you felt his warm lips laying a soft kiss on your sensitive skin.

“Not here,” you whispered, and he laughed. “Come on, it’s just a kiss on the neck, it’s not that deep,” he stated and you heavily blushed, pulling the hood above your head and nestling into his neck. He smelt like cologne and laundry, it was very comforting to be in his arms. Chan’s hands drew you a bit away from him, making you turn to the side, your legs wrapped around him. You were now straddling him, and Chan rested his head on your chest. You rubbed the back of his head and he sighed in content, tightening his grip around you.

“I love you,” he mumbled, completely out of the blue, which startled you. “Come again?” you said, not sure that you heard him quite right. “I love you,” he didn’t hesitate to repeat, his hands going under your sweater and t-shirt, softly rubbing your back as he looked up at you from his spot in your arms. “Since I saw you for the first time, you’re constantly running in my mind. I never told you that but, when we first met in the bus, I almost went off with you like the second time, but I didn’t know what to say or do when I’d reach you. I’m glad that my friends pushed me to come and talk to you because I’ve never been this happy since I’m seeing you.” You laid your hands on his shoulders to make him properly look at you and he had the most delicate eyes that you’ve ever seen on him. Cupping his cheeks, you smiled, softly bumping his nose with yours. He chuckled but you both became serious again, Chan’s eyes leaving yours to land on your lips. He looked back up at you and you nodded, allowing him to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

Your mouths moved in sync, the kiss bringing you nothing but happiness. Chan had managed to break down your ice walls, comfortably installing himself and his love in your heart. It felt warm, he knew that he was in a good and safe place, and so were you. Chan, under his skater, e-boyish appearance, hid a loving heart, filled with attention and kindness. He felt like trusting again, and he was right. Having you by his side made him feel like nothing could hurt him. You protected each other’s hearts, and that’s the only thing that the two of you needed; someone caring and loving.

[mypersonmyg]

here. | knj

pairing:  namjoon x reader

genre: angst, fluff

rating: pg-15

wc: 2k

warnings: angst, the stripping of clothes

summary: he just wants to take you to the cider mill OR namjoon draws you a bath

a/n: day 2 of drabble month! i’m actually not sure how i feel about this, i keep meaning to write fluff but somehow there’s always ANGST !!!! anyways, enjoy

prompt 2. B - Bath. The otp+ share a bath or shower, or bathe as in swimming or sunbathing.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

The crackling of distant flames fills the canals of wind-kissed ears, temperate hands singing praise against the reprieve of mugged cider. You glance slides to the window nearest, the patter of rain the backdrop to an otherwise uneventful afternoon. Your hand falls mid-sip to the flash of your screen, contact bringing a smile to your face as the device is eagerly pressed to your ear. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t pick up earlier, I was--”

“Busy?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighs, tone saturated with disappointment. 

“You already said that,” Your words accentuate a forthcoming giggle, not the least concerned with pushed plans. You don’t miss another heavy sigh, your own following suit when you realize how distant this feels. “It’s raining, we would’ve gotten soaked anyways.”

“Yeah, but the mill is closing soon and I promised you we would go,” Namjoon looks for permission to blame, his words not untrue. Plans were made at the head of the season, the leaves only midway through routine transformation. It was before life made appearance, the two of you still on high from a summer filled with romance renewed. Now your schedules seems to perfect the dodge of time, one busy whilst the other remains free, a continued nuisance on your chilly plans.

“Joonie, it’s okay! There’s still time and even if we don’t go this year there’s always the next.” You’re aware that your words impact little, the determination of your dimpled lover never easily swayed. He doesn’t respond, the crackling of fueled flames continuing to drift through the air around you. “Joonie?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.” The taste his words leave are bitter, tone resigned to failure, the imagined drop of his shoulders causing your lips to do the same. “Um...I have to get to class soon. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You could come see me…” 

“I can’t, I’ve got a lot of work and...yeah.” Your suggestion is met with immediate hesitance, your heart plummeting at hurried rejection and a half baked explanation. Suddenly the comfort of drops against the misted glass are simply a reflection, demeanor greyed without pause. 

“O-Oh, that’s okay. I should probably do some shopping anyways, my cabinets are screaming to be filled.” Your attempt at a natural humor sounds flat in your own ears, chuckle falling short. “Okay, well I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah...I love you.” Even coated in sincerity it feels off, spine tingling with a discomforting chill. Even so you respond in hum, a ‘you too’ drifting down the line before it altogether goes dead.

Your phone is tossed, hands immediately falling to a trace against the edge of your mug half-filled. The cider is lukewarm, it’s spiced appeal now no more than a withering tang. Your eyes fall shut, immediate images of flowered fields and tandem bikes taking you back to the season long past. You begin to wonder if affection fled just as soon, phased like newlyweds though you were far from such fantastical slopes.

You push up with a sigh, though your words were dropped from a hat your cabinets remained rather bare. It was usually at Namjoon’s insistence and begged accompaniment that you would float through the aisles of the grocery, haphazardly filling the cart whilst he sifts through with care, making sure all of your bases are covered. Now as you step to the door, galoshes shoved to feet and windbreaker covering sleeved arms you can’t recall what the bases are.

Your drive is silent, radio filled with festive cheer left on mute as thoughts race and worries bubble over a surface left unsteady. Your trip through silent storelanes is much the same, the ringing at the register leaving you uncertain if your purchase contains any objects of use. 

When you’re pulling back into your lot, it’s the realization of fatigue. Your skin is heavy and the dragging of your heart has made it even more so. You’re not unaware of your own dramatic curve of emotion, but it’s a symptom unshakable. Your own autumn fever, a nonmedicinal cold. 

The beat of rain against the windshield keeps you firm, desire to lug bags through the spill less intriguing than the snug of heated leather. Your train of thought is derailed by the cup of hands against the driver side glass, familiar rounds staring through breathed fog. Your hand his quick to roll the window, Namjoon’s hooded head peeking through.

“What are you doing?” He immediately ponders, glancing at your door and back. 

“Me? What are you doing? I thought you had homework,” You counter flinching at the drop of cold seeping around Namjoon’s towering form. He regards you for only a moment, pupils tracing your features, attention tunneled. 

“You’re upset.”

“What?” Not false, but you feel the relax of your muscles, sure that nothing external gives way to your inner storm. 

“You didn’t say it back...you’re upset. Come on, it’s freezing out, I’ll help you take your things in.” 

“You don’t--” He doesn’t leave room for counter, already rounding to the boot of the vehicle, easily scooping up a hefty sum. You retrieve what little remains, legs hurrying to grant access to your darkened home. Namjoon’s navigation is quick, if not a little clumsy, the clatter of bags followed seamlessly by the flick of a switch. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” Namjoon floats near the doorframe, feet shifting beneath him. Your face pulls to a confused squint, question sudden if not completely ridiculous. 

“Um...yes?” He takes not a moment, dashing off without another word. Your focus shifts to the unbag and refill, almost forgetting altogether that Namjoon inhabits the depths of your home. It’s only when you’ve placed a solitary bag of rice that your attention shifts. 

You enter the living room, the expectations of a muscled giant occupying the better half of your couch left unfulfilled. You traverse to the bathroom in the far hall, muffled mutters and the knock of a bottle from the counter telling enough that Namjoon is still inside. You raise to knock at the door, hands daintily tapping at worn wood.

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh,,,yeah. Are you done with the groceries?” He sounds just beyond the barrier, as if he’s pressed to the frame much like yourself.

“Yeah, I just-you weren’t in the living room so I wanted to see if everything was--”

“Everything is fine!” Namjoon yanks at the door, the sound of his displeased grunts at his own lapsed memory accompanying the twist of the lock. In his reveal, he’s smiling down at you, cheeks stretched to capacity. “Come in.” 

You do as told, eyes on Namjoon as you enter the decently sized space. The spillage of goop beneath your shoe draws your gaze and from there the overflow of bubbles from your bathtub. You surprise yourself with the laughter that spills without pretense. 

“Joon, how much did you put in here? It’s not a swimming pool,” You tease, frame turning to him once more, the blush of his cheeks heightened under low lights. Your hands easily find purchase around his middle, face burying into the fabric of his tee. “You drew me a bath.”

“I wanted to make you feel better,” He explains in short, sizable hands tracing the line of your spine. You inhale, his pine-like scent mixed with the wash of rain and a hint of bubble bath fills your senses. You’re almost content, the stiff of your limbs still apparent, Namjoon’s hold on your shoulders telling you as much. 

His hands travel to the hem of your shirt, easily lifting it over your head to be tossed from view. He takes only a moment to absorb your bra clad form before the gentle pull at your shoulders turning you from view. His fingers expertly unhinge the clasp of your bra, the material falling to the floor. Your hands take it upon themselves, sliding into the waist of your bottoms, sending them and your panties to the tile flooring. 

You grip the tubs edge, feigned porcelain cool against your fingers. The gentle dip of a toe falling to rippled waters as you shiver with intention, the rest of your body eager to dive into the satisfying grips of liquid warmth. When you’re fully submerged you breathe with content, head pushed to a backward tilt and eyes closing for the briefest moment until the click of a shoe forces you back to current.

“Are you not getting in?” You stop Namjoon mid step in the opposing direction, his lips pulled into surprised pucker hand tracing hollowed cheeks. “Get in.” 

You create space behind you, Namjoon watching you for only a moment before quickly stripping himself bare, sliding in behind you, arms immediately pulling you against his chest. Like this you remain, silent, surrounded by warmth and worries respectively. It’s the tightening of arms against your waist that breaks the spell, Namjoon’s voice deep, his breath fanning your neck.

“Are you okay?” You feel his timber in your core, head falling against his shoulder. You can only hum, though it’s unsatisfactory, “You seemed off earlier and...you didn’t say it back.”

You force yourself to shift so his face falls to view, those same words from earlier peaking interest. “What are you talking about, what didn’t I say?”

“I said I love you earlier and you said ‘you too’” It had seemed inconsequential in current time, your own emotions plunging you into freefall, but you can hear the hurt in his words and the tension of his grip. “And you didn’t really seem happy to see me.” 

“I was-I am happy to see you,” You assure, loosening his hold to an interwoven hold of your hands. “I was just upset.”

“About the mill, I know.”

“No. I told you I wasn’t upset about that and I wasn’t lying. I was and am upset that you just shut down on me! You made up some lame excuse so you didn’t have to come over and it upsets me that you think you have to lie or that you can’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

It wasn’t planned, your spill of words, but there they sit, floating upon a sea of bubbles and a tender silence. It’s with regret that a fragment of you imagines the loosening of limbs and Namjoon leaving you to sulk. You’re aware of the issue, but resolution has yet to present and you’re unsure if it ever will.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh at repetitive words, the direction of conversation looking familiar. “I just wish I could be better for you.”

You start at the revelation, attempt to turn to him in comfort rejected as he hold you still in a grip soft and steady..

“Namjoon--”

“No. Just let me finish...please.” You settle once more, water already turning luke around you, a heavy silence stewing you in heavy thoughts. “You say that things are fine and that you’re happy and I believe you, I do, but I also know that you hide your struggles just as much as I do. You hide them better, but I know you’re struggling.” 

No response appears adequate, the words you wanted to speak not moments ago dead against your vocal chords. Your anger seems hypocritical when he says the words, your ability to cover your fears blinding even you to your two faces. 

“I know that you wanted to go to the mill because it’s something that makes you happy and when I couldn’t give that to you I guess I started questioning whether I could give you what you deserve.” Namjoon continues when he realizes you won’t speak. “I started to get in my head and I knew you wouldn’t tell me that you were hurting and figured it was my job to pull away.” 

“Well it’s not,” You breathe, finally finding the will to speak. “I don’t want you to pull away or feel like it’s your job to make me feel better because it’s not. Not to mention that you leaving or creating distance only makes me feel worse.”

“I’m--”

“Don’t.” You stop him before he can conjure the words. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t ever want you to be sorry. Just be here. Be here for me and know that I’m always here for you.”

“Okay,” His lips find your shoulders, a series of kisses against smooth skin. After a moment he speaks once more in a hush, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[artificialqueens]

Been Here All Along (Tayce/A’Whora) - Juno

Summary: A game of spin the bottle turns into a night of realisation for Tayce and A’Whora.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little story! It was inspired by a prompt list from tumblr and is a one-shot featuring lots of the DRUK2 girls.

“Who’s gonna spin first?”

Joe spluttered with feigned indignation at Veronica’s question and seized the bottle from her hand. “Me, of course. Who else? It is my house.”

“And mine,” Veronica pointed out, “and Tayce’s, and Pip’s! We all live here too, you know!”

Joe ignored Veronica as she normally did, and put the bottle in the centre of the gaggle of people on the living room floor, giving it a violent spin with a flick of her wrist. The twelve of them all watched it go around and finally land on Ginny, who raised their bright yellow eyebrows and pursed their lips into an O.

“Truth … or dare?” Joe asked in her usual dramatic fashion, picking up the bottle and waving it under Ginny’s nose like a microphone.

“Give over!”

“Truth … or dare?”

“Erm, truth. Oh, shut up!” Ginny protested at the collective groan, holding up the plastic cup of alcohol. “Truth first! I need at least another three of these before you catch me taking off my clothes and running down the road, I can tell you that for nothing.”

Tayce felt Aurora’s hand creep into the crook of her elbow, her skin tingling at the contact as it always did whenever Aurora’s hands were on her. Aurora leaned a little closer to breathe words into her ear.

“How often does Ginny do that when you all play this game?”

Tayce had to think about it. “So far only twice. Once in second year, and once this year. But don’t worry, they only got as far as the Spar on the corner.”

“Only twice?” Aurora looked scandalised.

“Okay,” Joe’s theatrical voice and emphatic sweeping gestures with her arms focused all the attention of the eleven people around her as she spoke. “Do you fancy anyone in this group, and how long have you fancied Pip for?”

Everyone shrieked; Tayce grabbed Aurora’s hand and squeezed in glee as Pip mimed throwing the tiny handbag she always carried at Joe. Ginny just grinned and without another word, stood up and left for the kitchen, blowing them all a kiss as they went.

“They don’t really love me,” Pip shrugged, “they just keep me hanging on.”

“I heard that,” Ginny called from the kitchen. “You want some punch?”

“Get a move on, it’s your turn to spin, Ginny!” Lawrence shouted back. “Pryzm closes the doors at eleven, and I want to be fucking buzzing off my tits before we get there.”

Ginny came back into the living area, carrying the plastic tub filled with the bright pink concoction that Asttina had made, the result of plenty of cheap vodka and Sourz and pink lemonade that Asttina insisted was class in a glass, even if the rest of them had their doubts.

“Pip, spin for me, will you love?” Ginny asked, dipping their plastic cup into the tub and filling it with drink.

The game went on for a while, a few more turns taken and a lot more alcohol flowing. Aurora was getting more tactile the more she had to drink - as usual - until her chin rested on Tayce’s shoulder, leaning into Tayce’s right side, her hand still looped in the crook of her elbow and her perfume invading her every synapse.

And Tayce would never admit that just that contact was making her stomach quiver with butterflies.

It was an age before finally Tia’s spin of the bottle landed on Tayce, who had secretly been looking forward to it as they all did, even if none of them would admit it. She felt Aurora’s hand squeeze her again, her hot breath against her neck.

“Tayce -“ Tia began, but Joe held up her hand.

“Tayce,” Joe took over the conversation, continuing her theatrics, “truth, or DARE?”

From the way that Joe was saying dare, and the way the rest of the circle were looking round at her expectantly, Aurora’s fingers digging into her forearm, she knew she had to take one for the team.

She sighed in mock resignation. “Alright, give me a dare, Joe.”

There had been six whole rounds of truths and so the group’s collective cheer could probably have been heard in Tayce’s native Wales - apart from Lawrence whose sudden coughing fit sounded a great deal like sexual tension - but Joe peered at everyone in the group, finally turning back to Tayce.

“I dare you to kiss … Cherry.”

There was a beat of silence around the room before Cherry’s high-pitched cackle filled it.

“What! Why me?” Cherry cried, her eyes darting between Tayce and Aurora in confusion.

And she wasn’t the only confused person in the circle; Tia’s brow furrowed, looking from Tayce and Aurora and then to Joe. As if they all wondered if Joe was more plastered than she was letting on, not to have noticed the elephant in the room.

“Just get it over with,” Veronica muttered, “taxis will be here in a minute.”

“Come on, speed it up!” Lawrence waved her hands at them both. “Pryzm, remember?”

Tayce pulled herself free of Aurora’s welcome warmth and crawled across the circle to Cherry, as the shriek of the girls around them reached fever pitch. When their lips met, Tayce could feel Cherry laughing nervously as she put her hands to Tayce’s face, her touch a little awkward.

There was nothing behind it, but the group around them were shrieking as if they’d just scored a try at the Six Nations. They pulled away to the excitement dying down and Lawrence’s slow clap.

“Great. BAFTA award nomination for romantic moment of the decade. Can we get in the taxis now?”

——

By the time they’d managed to get into the club, it was gone ten, the place was heaving with bodies moving to the music, and none of them could get to the bar with the queue at least three-people deep. Lawrence was complaining that they hadn’t spent more time at home getting drunk before they got there.

“You were the one who insisted on calling the bloody taxis!” Veronica put her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t, that was Ellie!” Lawrence folded her arms. “God, don’t blame me for everything!”

Tayce sniggered behind her vodka and red bull, watching Veronica’s face growing even redder, out of booze or annoyance it was hard to tell. They were all used to Lawrence’s humour by now, and Tayce couldn’t blame Lawrence for taking the piss this much; especially with Veronica, who was just a little too easy to rile up.

“Anyway, it was Aurora’s fault, really. We’d have been here sooner if she’d gotten into the first taxi and not made us all play musical fucking chairs because she suddenly didn’t want to go with Tayce!” Lawrence wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t know what’s going on there!”

Tayce turned to see where Aurora was, just in time to see her shake her head in exasperation and turn away from them, making her way to the stairs leading to the smoking area.

“Lawrence!”

Lawrence looked confused. “What did I do?”

“I’ll go - see if she’s alright -“ Tayce said, pushing her way through the crowds and heading down the stairs and out to the smoking area. As expected Aurora was there, leaning her back against the wall, her vape pen in hand, blowing clouds of smoke into the rain.

She sighed as Tayce drew near to her. “I don’t think your uni friends like me very much.”

“You always say that, you’ve said that all three years we’ve been at uni, and you know they do like you. They think you’re lush.”

Aurora concentrated on twirling her vape pen around her fingers. “Lawrence doesn’t.”

“She does, you know that complaining about everything is her way of being friendly. The more she complains, the more it means she’s having a good time. Trust me.”

Tayce rubbed Aurora’s shoulder when she didn’t look any happier, while Aurora looked at the ground. “I didn’t get to do any truths, either, or - or dares.”

Tayce spluttered with laughter. “Okay, tell you what, let’s have a round now, just the two of us. So - truth … or dare?” She asked, mimicking Joe’s affected tone and deep, throaty voice.

“Tayce -“ Aurora waved her hand in her direction, but the corners of her mouth were curling, and she screwed her eyes shut as she lost the fight to keep the laughter out of her face.

“Truth or DARE?”

Aurora shook her head, still laughing. “I fucking hate you! Give me a dare, then.”

“You sure you want a dare? Positive?”

When Aurora looked back at Tayce, she was no longer attempting to hide the coy smile, chewing her bottom lip while a gentle flush spread up from her neck to her face.

Tayce couldn’t keep the purr out of her voice. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Aurora’s eyes widened a fraction, darting to the people around them. “Tayce!” She murmured, raising her hand to slap Tayce playfully on the arm.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Aurora teased, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Why not?” Tayce smirked, raising her eyebrow. “Scared you’ll fall in love with me?”

But Aurora just ran the fingers of her free hand along Tayce’s arm, up to her shoulder.

“Tayce! I’ve been in love with you since we were kids!”

The words in Aurora’s voice were something Tayce had only heard in her wildest dreams, and now being spoken into existence, they ignited something intense between them. Suddenly their lips had met; Tayce’s head spinning at the thought of finally getting to kiss the friend she’d yearned for for years. Aurora felt like home, the intimacy like the most natural progression in the universe.

At the sound of a cough behind them, one that sounded an awful lot like “sexual tension”, Tayce broke the kiss off and turned to see Ellie pushing Lawrence back into the club and mouthing sorry at them with a grimace.

Turning back to Aurora, Tayce was surprised at her confused expression. “I didn’t realise … but are you and Cherry …”

“No, wait,” Tayce shook her head. “That was just a dare!”

“I thought that Joe wanted you to kiss Cherry because she was trying to make you two -“

“No!” Tayce gesticulated wildly, almost knocking Aurora’s vape pen clean from her hand. “It was just because Cherry is a bit shy, and Joe likes to try to involve her! Don’t worry, Cherry doesn’t fancy me!”

“You’re sure -“

“Yes!” Tayce laughed. “Jesus, you think too much.”

Aurora took a deep inhale, blowing smoke out the corner of her mouth, the air around them filling with the scent of strawberry as she did. “Can you tell what I’m thinking now?”

“Well I’m not a psychic,” Tayce murmured, pulling Aurora close again, “but if you’re thinking the same as me, then it’s that we need to deflate that air bed in my room. You won’t need it if you’re coming in with me.”

“Great minds think alike!” Aurora replied with a coy grin.

[vpyre]

No Matter How Tremulous the Flame, the Ice Will Always Melt

William hadn’t seen Grelle today, which wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary had she been like any other employee; but with Grelle being Grelle, usually not a day went by without some sort of dramatic entrance or other loud indication of her presence. The last time it had been this quiet was when she’d landed herself in the infirmary in critical condition for reasons he would rather not dwell on at the moment. He tended to avoid thinking about things that involved demons, after all (or was it that there was something else about the memory that he didn’t want to acknowledge…?).

Giving himself a mental slap to refocus, he skirted around that train of thought and back to the here and now. In the here and now, he had paperwork to collect. With a beleaguered sigh, he got up out of his comfortable desk chair, strode towards the dark wooden door of his office, and stepped out into the corridor. He checked that his door was locked before making his way down the hall. While the management division employees were granted private offices in deference to their primary role of checking paperwork and doing other administrative-type things; retrieval division workers had a much more temporary, rudimentary setup, as they were rarely in one place for long.

He walked past rows and rows of cramped and messy cubicles, heading for the filing area in the back where finished work was left to be collected. He was so focused on his task he nearly missed the waving hand from the cubicle he was passing, but he caught it out of the corner of his eye at the last moment. The reaper he was facing was not one he knew well, though he was sure he'd seen him around before. When William was within a conversational distance of him, the reaper (Will thought his name might be Miles) spoke up.

"Any idea what's wrong with Sutcliff? He's been very quiet today, and-"

"She," William cut in automatically, almost distractedly, like he hadn't quite realized he'd spoken; but he didn’t waver or elaborate.

”Fine. She has been very quiet today, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it, seeing as you’re his- er, her favorite reaper and therefore the most likely to hear something. Now, normally I wouldn’t be asking, but the silence’s just throwing me off a bit, to tell you the truth.”

Will frowned. Maybe something really was wrong. He told Miles he’d check up on her, then bade him farewell; he did still have a job to do. He’d pick up his papers, then stop by her cubicle on the way out.

He strode down the wide, cluttered aisle towards the back, pondering what he had heard. Someone walked by, but it took him a good few seconds to drag himself from his thoughts enough to process who it was. To his utter surprise, he found he had actually passed Grelle without noticing her right away. That was unheard of! Her very presence demanded the undivided attention of everyone in the room, without exception. However, it seemed that somehow an exception had been made. He watched her as she continued trudging on in the opposite direction without a word of greeting or even acknowledgement. This was also abnormal. She never ignored him; in fact, it was a constant struggle getting her to leave him be. And he had never seen her hunched into herself like that before, like she hoped she would disappear.

He felt his concern for her well up from where he tried to keep it stuffed away; that deep, dark place on the very fringes of his consciousness. That treacherous pit filled with things and thoughts and feelings he didn't want to face, not that he even knew how to face them to begin with. He hated demons, and that included his own. But that day had changed something in him, and he had let himself feel for the first time in more than a century. Now, he tentatively embraced his worry, though he absolutely refused to show it outwardly in front of all these other reapers. That was where he drew the line.

Despite his reservations, he had to make certain she was alright. Abandoning his bid for the paperwork in the back of the room, he turned and made a beeline for Grelle’s cubicle instead, anxiety pricking at him all the way. What if he said something to make it worse somehow? What if he had spent so long as a cold, emotionless statue of ice that he no longer knew how to comfort someone else? He took a steadying breath. He would try. She’d understand that he was doing his best; she was a thoughtful woman, after all. At the rate he had been going, he likely never would have opened up to emotion at all had it not been for her, and that thought soothed his worry slightly. He just wished he'd been kinder to her before, wished it hadn't taken her nearly dying to defend him to make him realize how much she genuinely cared. He was still in awe of her bravery and selflessness in that moment, in the face of such a terrible foe; an enemy that he despised.

He stopped in what qualified as the doorway of her makeshift office, and when she didn't seem to notice him standing there, he spoke up.

"Sutcliff."

She tensed almost imperceptibly, then looked up at him from her seat at her well-kept desk. "Oh. Hi, Will," she said, a little hoarsely and much quieter than he had ever heard her speak. She cleared her throat, then gave him a smile that might have been convincing had her eyes not given her away. Aside from the redness and ever-so-slight puffiness that her makeup couldn't quite hide, the nature of the thoughts and feelings behind them was impossible to disguise. He could see the pain and exhaustion in them. He could feel it stagnating in the confines of her tiny, constricting cubicle; hanging in the air and darkening her countenance like fog blocking out the sun. No amount of makeup could ever hope to obscure anything when Grelle's emotions, whether positive or negative, were always so powerful. She was like the sun: her warmth radiated out from her, touching everyone in sight; but when that warmth was covered by clouds, leaving only cold and rain, everyone in sight felt the loss.

William was shaken from his musings by her voice. "Is there something you need?"

He sighed. "To be perfectly honest, Grelle, I'm concerned for you. You've been unordinarily quiet today, and I can tell from just being near you that you are not feeling well. If you need a sick day, that can be arranged."

For a moment, she looked surprised- she wasn't used to him caring- then slumped down and let out a sigh of her own. "I'm not sick."

When she didn't elaborate, he asked, "Then what's wrong?"

She looked away and fell silent, but he could feel the tension crackling in the air as her emotions swelled to the surface, despite her efforts to keep them down. Finally, she breathed out, "I'm tired," and it felt like empty space itself had frozen.

Her wavering voice shot lines of striking grey exhaustion through the silence and the stillness, slicing through it like razor wire; like fragile threads of lightning before a sky-cracking boom of thunder. Will felt that if it had been raining, the drops would have hung suspended in space, a manifestation of stopped time. She turned to face him again, and he felt a jolt go through his body when he saw wetness in her eyes. It wasn't from surprise. No, the jolt came from the sheer pervasive power of her pain. It pierced through him in a way he had only ever experienced once before, and he was struck dumb.

This is just like that day, this depth of feeling. I never suspected that her pain was so overwhelming, just as I never thought her affection for me ran so deeply that she would be willing to sacrifice her life to defend me from that demon. What a nightmare that was. I thought she was dead; there was so much blood. She was in the infirmary on the verge of a second death for two days, and in recovery for a week. I never have and never will forget how quiet and empty dispatch felt without her. The whole ordeal shook some humanity back into me, and for that, I will forever be grateful; I just don't ever want to see her suffer again.

But here she was, suffering. She was in pain, and he didn't know what to do; just like that day. The tears in her eyes silently welled up and spilled over, leaving thin tracks as they rolled down her cheeks. He stood uselessly in the doorway, mind frantically racing to think of some way to help her, to make her hurt go away. His thoughts were blurring together, clashing and roiling, whiting out his senses. They were building and building; soon he would burst. When it all got to be too much, he threw logic out the window and gave in to instinct instead. He strode forward, wrapped his arms around her, and just held her. Her body stiffened and her eyes widened, but then she relaxed and sank into his embrace. She broke down and the tension broke with her; the taut cords of repressed emotion snapped, the suspended drops began to fall, the thunder cracked the charged stillness in twain. She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him closer, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching his suit coat in her fists with the force only granted to someone in the throes of sorrow. He sat still and let her cry; God knows she needed to let it all out somehow. Through her tears, she told him how she was tired of her drawn-out existence, how every time someone mistook her for a man she felt like it chipped a piece off of her soul, how her past haunted her and dogged her every step. She let it all spill out, and William couldn't help but admire the ease with which she expressed her feelings. He admired it, and he hoped that one day he would be able to do the same. If she were anyone else, he doubted he would have even begun to get back in touch with himself, and for that, he would be forever grateful to her.

Gradually, she quieted, sobs turning to quiet tears, tears turning to the occasional sniff. She pulled away and gave him a small smile through red eyes. "I'm surprised that you stayed through all that. I honestly didn't think you would." She looked away, then quietly added, "But I'm glad you cared enough to. Thank you."

He hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked back up at him. He held her gaze and said, "I should be thanking you. You brought me out of my stagnation because you cared enough to; and for that, you have my gratitude- and my friendship if you should so desire. I cannot excuse my prior callous treatment of you, but I can try to make up for it by being here for you now. You are the flame of the dispatch, Grelle. You keep us moving, even if no one else realises that. We wouldn't be functional without you, and neither would I. So thank you."

She sat still for a moment, making nary a sound, and he worried that it was all too much. Then, slowly, her face lit up with a grin and she threw her arms around him again. He felt her returning warmth in her embrace, and he genuinely smiled for the first time in more than a century.

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars | xv

read it on ao3...

where to begin?

Babe, there’s something wretched about this,

something so precious about this,

where to begin?

Babe, there’s something broken about this,

but I might be hoping about this.

Oh, what a sin.

-Hozier, “From Eden”

“I’m sure Rhaenys will be fine, it’s Aegon I’m worried about. He’s a little chatterbox.”

The bits of dialogue between Dany and her conference call reached Jon’s ears as he stared out the window and watched the countryside slip past. They were on their way to another Northern landmark, just the two of them. Their Majesties thought it was a good way for the public to see them acting like a real couple, even though it was far from the truth.

Despite the impending publicity stunt, Dany was seemingly playful. After a week of wedding planning she was probably ecstatic to get away from it all. And understandably so. He attended a few of the planning sessions, specifically the cake tasting and menu planning. Dany surprised him by taking his opinions into consideration and even Catelyn appeared to tolerate his presence. 

They also had their first dance lesson which only reinforced the fact that Jon had two left feet. Luckily, it wasn't a standard ballroom dance so they were both spared any crushed toes. Although there were a few instances of hands missing their mark and ending up in the other’s face. They could hardly look at each other the next day without cracked smiles and stifled laughter. Much to the dismay of the Great Wedding Committee who wanted to discuss stationary and rings. 

Jon felt guilty after that particular meeting. Even though they were discussing wedding rings, he realized he’d never given Dany a proper engagement ring. She’d taken to wearing a ring of her mother’s on her finger so no one would get suspicious about the lack of a real proposal. Dany said people wouldn’t question the legitimacy of their engagement if a ring was involved. So Jon employed the help of Arya and Sansa, who were both detrimental in getting Dany’s ring size on the sly and helping him choose from the modest selection of jewels. They found a perfect choice after an hour of looking, it didn’t even need to be reset. He would’ve given it to her there in the car but it wouldn’t matter. The weather took a nasty dip and it was always cold on the wall so they would be wearing light gloves.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Dany cried, breaking Jon from his reverie.

“Finally done?”

“Deadzone.” she let her phone fall dramatically onto the seat between them and leaned her head on the window.

Jon chuckled. They had crossed into the Gift, a swath of land set aside for the Night’s Watch specifically and notorious for its spotty reception. In another hour they would be at Castle Black. He would by lying if he said he wasn’t anxious to be back. The reminder of the incident and his subsequent indefinite leave were still fresh in his mind.

Even though he trained and studied like the other recruits, he was never meant to be a ranger. The job was too dangerous for the Prince of the North so Lord Commander Mormont requested Jon be his personal steward. While he still craved the adventure of the rangings, he was willing to concede. However, there was one time he’d gotten a taste of what he could’ve had if he weren’t so damned important.

Shadow Unit was down a man and with no reports of wildling activity in the area, they let Jon ride out with them. The route they patrolled was clear with no sign of any wildling activity. That was how it usually went. In his four years at the Wall the only times there were actually run ins with the tribes that lived there got too close or Mormont sent the ranging parties further north.

The clear mile between the forest edge and the Wall was in their sights, bringing with it the promise of warmth and rest. The night was still and unnaturally dark and cold, the men in the unit were just as wary of the atmosphere as their mounts. The Haunted Forest was overgrown and wild, making it impossible for bulky vehicles to navigate. And going on foot was worse for obvious reasons so the Watch kept horses. 

A rustling in the trees brought their procession to a halt. With no wind to shake the branches, Jon knew at once that they shouldn’t have stopped. One of the men went to radio in  the activity when dark shapes descended on the front and rear and chaos ensued. Their formation broke into a mess of nervous horses and shouting men. On the narrow trail there was no way to break through, they were fish in a barrel. 

Somehow, in the darkness and confusion, Jon was tossed from his saddle. He landed on the frozen ground and avoided being trampled by his own horse. With no cover and no clear way out, Jon ducked into the trees. He managed to conceal himself and was about to try to contact Castle Black when he was tackled, his radio skidding across the snow and out of his reach. He managed to get his forearms between the attacker and his face but not before his crude knife slashed at his eye. 

The shout that left Jon filled the still forest as he forced his assailant off. Jon flipped himself over and tried to crawl to his radio. A searing, fire erupted in his leg and he knew he was a victim to the primitive tool his attacker had. As though it was second nature, Jon drew his gun and aimed. 

Even in the dark, he could feel the eyes of his opponent. Jon realized there was a human staring down the barrel of his gun. It was a brief thought, fleeting. Neither of them moved. There was no time to overthink it and without any more consideration, Jon pulled the trigger. 

He wasn’t shaking like he hoped he would. His breath was even and the pain from his eye and leg was dull but the sensation was growing. But as he laid there in the snow he contemplated what would come next.

The afternoon brought a meeting with Lord Commander Mormont. He wasn’t in command of Shadow Unit, nor was he leading the ranging so Jon had no idea why the Lord Commander would want to talk with him about the incident. At least that’s what he told himself to keep the dreading feeling away. Mormont was going to tell him his time with the Night’s Watch was over and he was going back to Winterfell.

“You wished to see me, Lord Commander?” Jon asked as he stepped through the door.

“Have a seat Jon.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to be ready to leave the moment the Old Bear said the words but the ache in his leg was still too bothersome to ignore.

“I’m sure you know that your father was alerted about the attack last night. Once he heard of your involvement and subsequent injury he commanded that you be placed on leave indefinitely and sent back to Winterfell.”

There it was. “What did you say to him?”

Mormont sighed, “I tried to convince him to let you stay but my explanation of the events did little to sway him.”

“I can’t go back there.” Jon shook his head.

He knew he would return eventually but he hadn’t planned on it being so soon.

“Neither of us have much choice in the matter,” the Old Bear reminded him, “We must all answer to the crown.”

At court, he felt like everything was handed to him. Even his claim to the throne was presented like a gift on his name day. While any other man would’ve taken advantage of it, Jon came to resent it. He found it to be one of the many reasons for the disdain surrounding him. It didn’t help that bastards were considered treacherous, even a legitimized one.

Serving with the Night’s Watch gave him the chance to earn something. Even if it was the least exciting of the positions, he put in the time and effort to achieve it. Hearing his name called and reciting the word beneath the grove of heart trees was the most gratifying experience. 

Jon found himself in much the same position again, though this time it was a woman the Crown placed into his life. Like an invitation for a week-long hunting trip on Bear Island only significantly more permanent and harder to refuse. And they were both real people with their own wants and needs but some selfish pricks higher than them decided that none of that mattered; reducing him and Dany to mere pawns in the ever evolving game.

The view outside the window changed with the first signs of Mole’s Town, several roofs and chimney stacks sticking out of the ground. To help protect against the cold homes were built underground and the public buildings were connected by tunnels. In more recent years, people began constructing their houses into the sides of man made hills. It seemed the only structure to be seen from the road was Castle Black, standing stoic and dark against the gleaming ice of the Wall.

Once a simple fortification of towers and scattered rooms, the years saw it transform from ancient keep to proper military base. Not that there was a great war to be expected from the folk beyond the wall, Castle Black was really a form of discouragement from trying to sneak through the wall.

“Seven hells,” Dany muttered as they passed through the gates, “That is a lot of ice.”

“Wait until you see the view from the top,” Jon said.

“We’re actually going up there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a trip to the Wall without it.”

There was a media frenzy in the courtyard. As part of the agreement between the press and the Royal Family, Jon and Dany would give them enough time for a photo op as they were greeted by the Lord Commander and then they expected peace and quiet for the day and a half they were there. 

Jon was surprised they were willing to accept such a quick and easy deal since it was the first public sighting of the newly engaged royals. A pair who were supposedly so in love, they decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together in the span of a week. Luckily, decorum helped them avoid any public displays of affection and bed sharing as their accommodations provided two separate rooms.

Brother’s of the Night’s Watch paused along the walkways to view the flashing cameras and the two people all the fuss was over. Jon didn’t recognize any of the faces. He doubted he would, a lot could change in two years. He at least expected to see Edd Tollett walking alongside the Lord Commander, complaining Mormont’s ear off. But the Lord Commander arrived alone, dressed in the ceremonial blacks with the bear of Mormont set among the various pins and medals.

“Your Highnesses, it is an honor to have you at Castle Black.”

The camera flashes increased as Jon shook Mormont’s hand and they posed for a good minute afterward, smiling and acting gracious. The press was ushered out of the courtyard and Mormont dropped the pretense.

“So, this is the young lady you’ve decided to spend the rest of your life with?” Mormont sizing up Dany, “A spectacular choice.”

Jon saw her smug smile. When she noticed he was looking at her, she nudged him with her shoulder.

The loud, high-spirited sounds that accompanied a returning patrol unit drew his attention away. Ghost Unit, he could tell. The two friends he made in his time at the wall, Grenn and Pyp, were in that group. 

“Well if it isn’t Lord Snow!” one of them called.

He shook his head. The nickname was meant as a mean tease and it stuck. Jon should’ve corrected them, reminded the men that he deserved the respect of his rank, but it brought back a wave of nostalgia he was grateful for.

“Aurochs and Pyp-squeak,” he greeted in the same mocking tone.

“We were about to head to Tormund’s if you wanted to join us,” offered Grenn, clapping Jon on the back.

“The lady can come too.”

Pyp nodded toward Dany, who stood by Jon’s side.

She laughed, “I would love to but one of us should stay for the tour from the Lord Commander.”

“You don’t mind if I go?”

“Of course not. You’ve probably seen enough of the place anyway.”

Jon thanked her, which she waved off in her casual way before leaving with Mormont.

Tormund’s little pub was one of the busiest attractions in the underground village of Mole’s Town. The atmosphere was humid and hot with all the bodies stuffed in the small space. When Jon inquired about the increase in people, his brothers laughed.

“It’s because of you and your sweetheart. As soon as news broke about your visit up here they all decided to make a weekend trip just to catch sight of you two.” Grenn informed. 

Jon noticed there were quite a few people wandering around up top. They were probably hoping to get close enough to the base but would have to wait until the photos were released. For once the strict policy on royal/press policy. 

The group found an empty table somewhere, Edd ended up joining them later. He wished he could enjoy their company like he used to but they kept asking him about the wedding and Dany and he found himself dodging questions, unable to relax.

“Can I come to the wedding?”

“You can come to the reception.”

“What if I’m your supporter?”

“Robb’s already got the job, Pyp.”

“Okay but what if-”

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to throttle you,” Edd threatened, as tired of the wedding talk as Jon was.

He managed to flip the conversation back to them by asking Grenn about his possible promotion. Grenn launched into a long winded rant, with added talking points by Pyp, about the placement of new recruits and new training requirements. All was going well until Tormund found out they were at his establishment.

Jon heard his warhorn of a voice call ‘Crow!’ from across the packed room. There was more grey in his orange hair than Jon remembered but that didn’t stop him from plucking the Prince out of his seat and nearly crushing him in a hug.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you when they shipped you back south. What the hells are you doing up here?”

“He and his fiancée are here to see the wall.”

“Fiancée? Well, what are you waiting for crow, show me a picture of this special woman,” Tormund demanded.

Jon pulled out his phone to find a picture of Dany and realized that he had none on his camera roll. He tried to search the internet for one but Tormund spotted him.

“You don’t have a picture of her in your phone?”

“They’ve only known each other a week,” Pyp chimed in.

“A week? Gods you work fast,” echoed Tormund in disbelief.

“It’s a long story that I’d rather not get into,” he tried to defend.

He wasn’t allowed to reveal the exact nature of his and Dany’s relationship, no matter how far-fetched it seemed to other people.

Edd broke in with, “I think we know why Lord Snow fell so fast.”

The tone in his voice reminded Jon of someone who was about to tell a bad joke. When he gave Edd a questioning look, he shrugged.

“When we found out who you were engaged to we did some digging.”

“The deep web is a wonderful, wonderful place,” came Pyp’s addition.

“The situation is much more complicated than that.”

Jon tried to sit down but Tormund pulled him back up and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“At least he’s found himself a girl to share his time with. Unlike the lot of you, sitting in my pub every weekend in the same spot and leaving together. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re more like to warm each other’s beds.”

Groans and protests went up from the group, mostly accusing Tormund of similar bachelor behavior. Jon patted Tormund’s shoulder, relieved that the conversation was off of him. 

When he returned to Castle Black with Grenn and Pyp, the sun had dipped below the wall, the sky making it’s nightly shift from orange to pink to purple to black and casting the southern half of the wall in shadow. The breeze had a harsher bite to it and Jon shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. His gloved fingers brushed against something small and odd shaped. The ring. He’d almost forgotten about it.

In a streak of luck, Dany was crossing the courtyard with the Lord Commander. He called out to her and she stopped to look at him.

“We were about to go up top,” she said, “Everyone says now is the best time.”

Jon doubted it. The air would be colder and the wind rougher but there was something he needed to do.

“I can take you up.”

“Are you sure? Lord Commander Mormont said he would do it.”

“I’m sure.”

The Old Bear backed off and let Jon take Dany’s arm.

Despite the creaking and rattling from the winch, it was an unbearably silent ride. One that left Jon with nothing to do but fiddle with the piece of jewelry in his pocket and watch Dany readjust her scarf from the millionth time.

No matter how much he’d seen it during his four years at the Wall, the view from the top still impressed him, especially then. The horizon burned orange, lighting the soft clouds yellow and making the purple-blue of the sky look electric. The light reflected off the trees and light snow of the lands beyond the wall.

“The Lord Commander told me there are still people who live out there. What will they do when winter comes?”

“They’ve survived the cold and snow for thousands of years, they can handle one more.”

Silence settled between them again. 

“You were right. It is beautiful.”

Dany tucked her chin into her scarf as the wind picked up, swirling her loose hair around. She gathered it in her hands and wrestled it under her scarf. A few pieces managed to escape and as she turned to look at him they brushed across her face. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and her eyes were starting to water. Jon lost his nerve.

It was too romantic, he decided. There was nothing he wanted less than to seem like he was trying to woo her. Not to mention with their security officers present and the possibility of a watchman passing by, it was too public. 

“We should head back down,” he offered.

She agreed and they descended, heading directly for their guest quarters. The pair of bedrooms with a common space between was fully furnished and  a welcome retreat from the oncoming cold. There was even a fire burning in the fireplace. Castle Black had a modern furnace system but nothing truly beat the cold like a roaring fire.

They parted to peel off their outerwear and change. Jon waited a good few minutes, sitting on the edge of the bed, examining the ring and trying to get his nerve back. He finally stood, walked into the living space and said, “Hey Dany, can you come here for a second.”

She appeared in the doorway. An oversized brown flannel hung from her shoulders, dwarfing her small frame, and she wore a pair of hot pink fuzzy socks on her feet.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, heading straight for the sofa in front of the fire.

Dany pulled her legs up beside her and twisted so she could see him. Her hair had a frizz to it, he noted. The light from behind caught in it, surrounding her make-up free face in a halo of gold.

“Yes,” he answered without thinking, “I mean, no… Yes and no.”

Her eyebrows raised as she eyed him. 

Jon moved to sit on the sofa with her, “When we talked about wedding rings this week, I realized that I forgot an important part of engagements.”

He realized the error he’d made in waiting until then. While the scene on the Wall was romantic in a trope riddled teen romance movie way, the low light and Jon and Dany in their sleepwear was much more intimate. And Jon cursed himself for it.

“Uh, it’s fine? I’m not really sure which part of the engagement you’re referring to.”

“That would be the proposal. I mean, you deserve a real one.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, that’s a shame because I have this…” Jon held the ring up.

“Oh, I’m fine with the one I’ve been wearing. You didn’t have to-”

“I know.” Without another moment’s hesitation he continued, “Daenerys Stormborn the First of House Targaryen, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and Lady of Dragonstone, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

A laugh escaped her, good natured and light, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Considering the wedding is in three weeks, I figured I’d better squeeze it in at some point.”

“Talisa was right, you are such a sap.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll be taking this back.” he started to put the ring back in his pocket but Dany reached for it.

“No, no, no, you proposed and I said yes, the ring is a fair exchange.”

She still had on her mother’s ring, so she took it off and put it on her other hand.

“Here,” Jon offered, taking her hand and sliding the real engagement ring onto her finger.

It wasn’t anything extravagant or glamorous, a simple kite shaped diamond with flecks through it (something Sansa called a ‘salt-and-pepper diamond’) set in silver. The shape reminded Jon of the tiara Dany wore to the charity gala, as well as the dragon sigil of her House.

“It’s a beautiful ring,” she said with a soft smile, still twisting and turning her hand to watch it catch the light.

“It was my Aunt Lyanna’s.”

“What happened to her?”

“She renounced her title. After Uncle Brandon died the succession skipped to my father. She was never meant for the princess life anyway, it was too stifling for her.”

“Where is she now?”

“We don’t know. Sansa thinks she fell in love with a Myrish merchant and took off to be with him in Essos.”

Dany’s face took on a thoughtful look, she dropped her hand to her lap and looked to the flames.

“I was engaged once.”

“Really?” 

Jon was shocked. As far as he was concerned, Dany had never been in a serious relationship. She just flitted from one man to another.

“I was fresh off my first semester of university and it was my first time in Meereen. The Grand Masters invited me to a gala of theirs and the Dothraki Khal happened to be there. We hit it off right away, although he didn’t speak a word of the common tongue except ‘no’. Ser Jorah had to translate everything.

“When I returned to Meereen the next summer, he invited me to Vaes Dothrak and I spent more time with him than I should have. It wasn’t a proper proposal, there was nothing planned about it. No ring, no kneeling, no pretty words. It was spur of the moment and I said yes.”

“What happened?”

“Rhaegar found out. I haven’t seen or heard from Drogo since, unless you count that tell-all article.”

“I’m very sorry.”

She looked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why? It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anybody’s fault but my own.” There was bitterness to her voice.

“I guess I… have sympathy for you,” Jon admitted.

“Well thank you for that. And for the ring.”

She paused, like she was contemplating something more, then got up and disappeared into her room. Jon gazed at the closed door. He sighed and departed for his own bed.

[demonsonthemoon]

Sunkissed, Sunburnt, Soothed

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairings: platonic Jehan & Grantaire, romantic Grantaire/Enjolras Word Count: 2607 Summary: "The first time Grantaire met Enjolras, he felt for a second like he was going blind. Meeting Jehan had been far less dramatic." Or: the story of not-so-healthy relationships, what they give and what they take, the ways they have of being too much and of being not enough. (Featuring Aromantic!Jehan) Note: Dedicated to my friend Caro (@anastasiapullingteeth), forever the Grantaire to my Jehan and a star in my constellation. This fic was a bit rushed to I could put it out in time for #AggressivelyArospecWeek. I definitely feel like the concept deserves a far longer exploration than I gave it here. Also I have no idea whether the POV and style shifts actually work. Do the paragraph breaks work??? I don't know. I just didn't want to think of how to fix them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and don't hesitate to let me know what you thought!

Read it on AO3.

The first time Grantaire met Enjolras, he felt for a second like he was going blind. Like he had just stared at the sun and was about to pay for it. Like the other was a new version of Medusa, turning people to ashes instead of stone.

To be fair, the whole experience may have had something to do with the fact that Grantaire had been well on his way to drunk at the time. Although that didn't explain the continued feeling of being on fire everytime Enjolras looked at him.

Meeting Jehan had been far less dramatic. If Enjolras was the threatening light of the sun faced head on, Jehan was a soft beam peeking above a cloud. He didn't command attention, instead drew it gently with patterned tights, pastel-colored skinny jeans and chunky cable-knit sweaters. Grantaire had taken one look at him and decided he wanted to befriend him. It had something to do with the way Jehan had kept half of his hands hidden in his sleeves, the way his smile had seemed just that little bit uncertain before he let himself be drawn into conversation by Courfeyrac and Bahorel.

Enjolras was so beautiful to look at it often seemed painful. Jehan was a mess of clashing color and haphazard hairstyle, and he was so real it made Grantaire's bones sing.

He had been drunk the first time he had met Enjolras, the first time he had witnessed one of their little meetings from a hidden corner of the Musain. He had been drunk the second time too. Part of his brain had convinced him that the angel, the burning god, would not be there if he came back sober. Part of him had been too scared to face that kind of passion without the flimsy protection of alcohol. Part of him had just been looking for any excuse he could get.

He'd been sober when he'd met Jehan. The young man had joined the group of revolutionaries after Grantaire, although he had been accepted as a friend much more easily. Grantaire hadn't been jealous of that. He could admit he had never made it particularly easy for the other to find him likeable.

Smart people do not bare their skin to the sun at its zenith. They put on a hat instead.

But Jehan had looked past the wide brim of his, had spotted the freckles hiding on Grantaire's nose and had offered to kiss them.

The young man was free with his affection, in that he thought that love should be free. Free to roam and explore, free from the shackles of expectation and propriety. He was free with his love, because he had been told once he could not love right. He had then decided that if he couldn't do it right, at least he would love a lot. Even if it wasn't enough, it would make the world just a little kinder.

Grantaire hadn't ever thought he was able to love in a way that didn't destroy. He had loved laughter once, until laughter had turned into the price he paid for attention. He had loved learning, until learning became the thing he did to prove his parents he was still worth something. He had loved people, and the people had turned into bottles, so fragile between his fingers.

He had loved art. It was the one thing he had managed to renounce before it turned into a blade.

He loved Enjolras.

The truth of that was a block of ice constantly floating around his stomach. It was the kind of cold that burned, and numbed all other feelings at the same time.

Jehan loved him. Not like ice, and not like fire. Not like one romantic lead loved another in all the novels he read.

He loved him all the same.

And Grantaire loved him back, in a way that – for once – didn't feel dangerous. Jehan was the wick of a candle instead of a forest. Sometimes Grantaire resented him for it. Most of the time he was relieved.

They moved in together one day. It made sense for a lot of reasons. Mostly because it was cheaper. But also because they could be there for each other more easily this way. They could keep each other accountable. Keep each other standing. They could promise each other the warmth of another body when they came home.

When one of them offered to share a bed and turn the second bedroom into an art room, it made sense too. So much so that neither of them remembered who came up with the idea in the first place.

It was good. It was nice. In the way that drinking hot chocolate under a blanket while watching the rain outside was nice. It wasn't the same as lazing in the sun, but it was comforting in its own way.

Grantaire hadn't felt like he needed anything else. The grey weather was what he knew, and he would make the best of it. There was a voice in his mind, like the rumbling of far-off thunder, that told him he didn't deserve anything else anyway. That told him he had no choice, that he could learn to swim or drown.

When that voice spoke, when the pain of it flashed like lightning through his veins, Grantaire made Jehan some tea in a quaint little cup, with a hint of honey, and he baked lemon and basil cake.

Then one day the sky caught fire in the most magnificent sunset that Grantaire could have imagined.

Enjolras asked him out for coffee. Not to talk about politics. Not to berate him about his latest interruption during a meeting. Ey asked him out.

Grantaire thought it was a joke at first. He genuinely thought it was a joke, got mad about it and started ranting about how it wasn't funny and he'd expected better from Enjolras.

But it had been real. And Enjolras had been as impassioned as ever when ey had convinced Grantaire that ey was taking this really seriously, that ey was genuinely interested in Grantaire and wanted to give the both of them a shot.

How could Grantaire have said no ?

So they had gone for coffee. And it had been weird at first, but then it had gotten better. If he was honest with himself, Grantaire would admit that he would have gone much further than weird to get a shot at being so close to Enjolras. He called the other Apollo, and laughed when Jehan started calling him Icarus, not noticing the genuine note of concern in his friend's tone.

The one coffee turned into dinner two weeks later, then drinks a week after that, then Grantaire staying at Enjolras' place for the night, then them starting to officially date.

When Grantaire moved out of Jehan's bed and back into their little art studio, he told the other man that it wasn't something Enjolras had asked for. It was something Grantaire had chosen to do himself.

Jehan didn't have the heart to tell him how much it hurt that Grantaire would pick Enjolras over him even when ey hadn't asked him to choose.

That didn't mean that Jehan wasn't happy for his friend. He was. This was what Grantaire had always wanted, and his joy at finally tasting the honey he had coveted for so long was infectious.

At least for a while.

For weeks, for a few months even, Grantaire was glowing. Jehan felt his closest friend drift further away from him, but he happily swallowed his bitterness in the face of Grantaire's smile. It was painful to admit that Enjolras might really have something more to give that Jehan would ever be able to provide, but that didn't mean he would be as selfish as to take it away from Grantaire.

Then Enjolras and Grantaire had a fight.

Jehan hadn't been worried, at first. The couple had always had fights with each other, sometimes in quite spectacular ways. They clashed on many different subjects, partly because they were both opposite and alike to each other. Their ideas often had the same roots, but life had made them grow in contrary directions.

So one more fight hadn't been a cause for worry. Even the fact that Grantaire had grabbed a beer in the fridge right after coming back to their shared flat hadn't really been enough to spook Jehan. It was far from unusual, for Grantaire.

The fact that Grantaire was quiet as he drank, more sad than angry, was a hint that something might be amiss, but not enough to panic. Grantaire was prone to melancholy, a mood which Jehan knew well enough to respect in others.

All this to say that, no, Jehan hadn't been worried. Not at first.

Not after that one fight, and not even after the next one.

Grantaire and Enjolras always made up. They always went back to one another. After all, Enjolras was Grantaire's singular belief. You did not just one day decide to stop following the Northern star when it was what had always guided you home.

The moment when Jehan started getting concerned was after he noticed that the times between arguments were just... less. On the one hand, Grantaire started spending more time with Jehan again. They would huddle up on the couch with one of Jehan's handmade infusions and watch weird documentaries well into the night, and it was nice to have that again. On the other hand, Grantaire wasn't coming home with a dopey smile on his face and apologies for how time had gotten away from him while at Enjolras' the evening before.

Grantaire didn't talk about it. Jehan didn't press, although he did... hover. Just a little.

Then Grantaire announced that he was going to spend a little while at Enjolras' place, longer than usual, because they needed some uninterrupted time as a couple, just the two of them.

Jehan tried to be happy for them, happy that they were trying to make it work, happy that they still believed in one another. He tried not to dwell on how their own appartment had started feeling more and more empty, even when Grantaire was here. He stopped himself before he could make a bitter comment about using Grantaire's room as an art studio again.

Instead, he lead his friend to the door, kissed him on both cheeks, and wished him well. He watched him go like one sits by the sea and waits for the light to sink.

The thing was, Jehan wasn't a saint. He was a human being with needs and desires of his own, and maybe he couldn't love Grantaire romantically, but he did love him. And for a year he had had everything he thought he would never be allowed to get, a best friend, a roommate, someone he could share his bed with at night and who would share Shakespeare-based puns with him over breakfast in the morning. And then a sungod had come in and ripped all of that from him, and he'd been forced to smile through it because Enjolras was his friend and Grantaire was happy.

But there had been something tense in Grantaire's shoulders as he'd packed his bags, and it had made Jehan want to scream. He didn't know how to tell the other man that he wanted him to come home without making it about his own pain and the feeling burned in his stomach like acid.

Jehan cried in his bed that night. He would have done it in Grantaire's, but he couldn't bear to step into the room that was now only a shadow of what it had once meant.

When Grantaire called him, three days later, in tears, there was a part of Jehan that felt vindicated. It wasn't enough to stop his stomach from twisting into knots as he whispered comforting platitudes until he could grasp anything coherent in Grantaire's distressed babbling.

“I don't understand what's happening, I don't understand why we just... why we can't... It's like ey can't hear what I'm saying, and I don't understand what ey wants me to tell em, I just...”

“It's okay. It's okay, Grantaire, you don't have to understand everything, just calm down a little. Right now you're panicking. You can't see things clearly if you're panicking.”

“I haven't seen anything clearly in weeks, Jehan. Everything's all blurry now.”

“That's just the alcohol talking.”

“No. It's really not. I wish it was.”

When Jehan saw Enjolras the next day, as they met up with all their friends, he couldn't even be angry. Ey look frazzled. Not in a dramatic way, but anything less than perfection was already dramatic when it came to Enjolras.

Grantaire had made Jehan promise not to say anything to em about their phone call, and Jehan respected that promise even if he didn't like it. That didn't stop him from watching Enjolras intently. There was a weariness to eir gaze that perfectly echoed Grantaire's for the past few days. Eir eyes kept drifting across the room, and Jehan didn't doubt that ey was asking emself the same question that was on his own lips: where was Grantaire?

At one point in the evening, Enjolras' eyes settled on Jehan. He met the gaze face on. He had nothing to hide. He wasn't ashamed of the pain and the fear he felt. It wasn't anything he didn't know he had a right to.

Enjolras didn't recoil. Ey bore the brunt of Jehan's attention and the accusation that sat hiding there. Ey looked on, weary, lost. There was a taste at the back of Jehan's throat that felt like pity, but he swallowed it.

When Grantaire finally came back to their shared flat, he was completely drenched from the storm outside.

“I had an umbrella with me, but I thought this would be more fitting.”

“That sounds like you, yeah.”

Grantaire stayed in the hallway. The sound of water droplets dripping from his hair and hitting the floor echoed ominously.

“I missed you.”

Jehan didn't reply. He didn't know what to say.

“I'm not feeling very good. I think I haven't felt very good in quite a while. I think I didn't realise that you made me feel that way. Good. Like I was good.”

Jehan breathed in. He breathed out. He stopped the screams that were trying to fight their way out of his mouth.

“I got everything I ever wanted. It was supposed to be perfect. It was, I guess. Or it felt like it. For a while. Now it's just... Hell is too warm a word. It's just something rotten. It's taken so much away from me. It's taken you away from me. I thought I couldn't have you both, and I picked em and it... you know that thing about boiling frogs by raising the water's temperature so slowly they don't even try to escape? It was like that.”

Jehan was fighting back tears. Between the two of them, they were about to flood the entire building.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. This was never what he'd wanted. He only wished for Grantaire to be happy. With or without him. Jehan had accepted his fate, he was okay with being left behind if it was for the greater good.

This didn't feel like the greater good. He suddenly wondered if refusing to raise his weapons hadn't been giving up the fight too soon.

“How is it fair to you that I only come back in pieces?”

“It's not.”

“Will you take me back anyway?”

“Of course I will.”

[sophcaro]

Back in Time | WMatsui - Chapter 12

It was almost 7 p.m. when Rena arrived home, a heavy sigh of exhaustion escaping her lips as she passed the front door. Removing her raincoat and boots, she rubbed her forehead at her headache, placing her wet umbrella in the basket. Today, and following months of intense negotiations, she had at last signed an important contract with the CEO of a leading specialty pharmaceutical German company. The business woman was pleased and proud to have reached such a great deal, the 5-year contract partnership opening their products to the European market.

This morning, she had arrived at the office a little before 7. Along with the other members of her company working on this negotiation, they had revised in detail all the terms of the contract, while waiting for the arrival of their foreign counterparts. Rena wished to put all chances on her side, refusing to let pass such an incredible opportunity. After a 4-hour meeting with the German representatives, their brand-new collaboration had been formally sealed with a long-awaited signature.

Rena progressed forward in the hallway, feeling her own strengths leaving her. Outside, the wind and rain were fierce, announcing an imminent tempest, water droplets hitting the house windows with a deafening noise. After such a long tiring and stressful day, Rena had one desire: to have a light, quick dinner and join her bed.

Rena entered the living room and dropped her briefcase on a chair, startled when she noticed the obscurity greeting her and the unusual quietness of the house. Her gaze drifted to the top of the staircase, wondering why she couldn’t hear Natsuki playing, then noticed their domestic robot standing by the side of the living room’s television. That definitely piqued her curiosity. “Alfred? Why are you not playing with Natsuki?”

When the robot didn’t react, Rena blinked in confusion. “Alfred, did you hear me?”

His large blue eyes lightened at last, and the robot stepped forward; acknowledging her presence. “M-Mistress? Y-You c-called m-me?”

“Yes. I asked you why you were not upstairs with Natsuki,” Rena repeated, destabilized by the slight jerks in his metallic voice.

Rena was taken aback by his lengthy response time.

“That’s because little Mistress is upset that Mistress Jurina didn’t come to pick her up after school. She refuses to let me enter her room.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t pick her up? Weren’t they supposed to go to the zoo today?” Rena asked, feeling a tinge of doubt. “Show me the calendar.”

The robot projected an image on the wall, blurry and unreadable at first, which caused Rena to gaze back at the robot in curiosity, before it adjusted and got clearer, revealing the family’s monthly schedule. Rena’s confusion arose; the data displayed confirmed what she thought. Jurina was indeed supposed to leave work earlier today to spend quality time with their daughter.

“Did Jurina warn you about any change of plans?” Rena asked, seeing the robot nodding negatively in response. She stood in the living room for a moment, analyzing the situation. Alright; that was strange.

Rena retrieved her Bluetooth earpiece from her vest pocket, and placed it inside her ear. “Call Jurina.”

Calling Jurina. The device responded to the command, dialing. Rena waited, hearing the call ending after one ringing, and falling on Jurina’s voicemail. Rena extracted the earpiece, checking it for any potential malfunction, then put it back inside her ear when nothing appeared out of the ordinary. “Call Jurina.” She repeated, the robotic voice recognizing the command and dialing the requested number. A couple of seconds later, she reached the same result.

Straight to voicemail.

Rena removed the communication device, and faced Alfred’s expectant look. “Something unexpected must have come up at work.” She tried to keep her voice light and unconcerned, but knew she’d failed when she saw Alfred frowning at her.

“Mistress Jurina always calls when she’s delayed at work,” the robot answered, visibly not convinced by the explanation.

Rena didn’t say anything, knowing he was right. It wasn’t like Jurina to not warn them if she was going to be late, even less not to respect a promise made to her daughter. Natsuki was Jurina’s little sunshine. She spoiled their daughter like no one else, always ready to please her and give in to all of her whims. For nothing in the world, would she do anything to tarnish Natsuki’s happiness.

Rena kneeled in front of the robot, catching his hand. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have news from her very soon.”

They held one another’s gaze, the mechanical fingers closing around hers. Rena’s mouth broadened into a smile at the glimmer of hope shining in his blue eyes, amazed by how expressive the humanoid robot could prove to be. Some days, it was so easy to forget that he was a machine, by the genuine, great affection he harbored for the three members of the family. But Rena knew his unfailing loyalty would always go to one member above all. It was the person his eyes had laid on for the very first time, when he got switched on almost a decade ago. It was the one who had held his hand, and given him a unique name, and to whom he had vowed to obey and serve his whole life.

His precious Mistress Jurina.

“I’ll go and see Natsuki.” Rena gently slipped her hand away from his grasp, receiving a weird crackling sound of agreement in response. The latter made Rena pause, asking herself if something couldn’t possibly wrong with the robot, making a mental note to herself to mention it to Jurina later.

Rena climbed the stairs leading towards the first floor, fearing nothing she would say would be sufficient to quell their daughter’s disappointment. Approaching Natsuki’s bedroom, she distinguished the light filtering from underneath the door, but the deadly silence reaching her did not augur anything well about her daughter’s mood.

She opened Natsuki’s door, seeing an instant look of relief greeting her, only for it to transform into a blatant disappointment at her sight. Rena wasn’t offended by her reaction; she knew it wasn’t her that their daughter longed to see the most right now. Rena stood at the entrance of the room, taking a moment to study the scene. Natsuki was sitting on the floor, head low, her back leaning carelessly against the side of the bed. Duran, her all-time favorite stuffed toy, wasn’t in her arms but laying on the pillow, while her toy box remained untouched in front of her.

“Hi honey. Mommy is home. What are you doing?” Rena leaned down, dropping a tender kiss on the top of her head. When her question was met with silence, she turned to the stuffed toy left on the pillow. “I’m sure Duran must be feeling alone up there.” She reached out for the stuffed dog and tried to place it inside Natsuki’s arms, but her daughter refused it and faced the other way.

“I don’t want Duran.”

Rena took a seat by her side, and slowly wrapped her arms around her waist. “I know you’re upset Mama didn’t come to pick you up after school,” she carefully said, seeing how her daughter refused to meet her gaze.

“She promised!”

The dramatic outburst startled her, and she met Natsuki’s angry look. “I’m sorry she couldn’t come. I know you were looking for it.” She caressed the length of her back in a soft, soothing gesture. “I wish I knew what happened, but I can only imagine that she got delayed at work. Maybe someone requested her presence and attention, and she couldn’t free herself as early as she wished.”

“Someone more important than Natsuki?” Rena witnessed her daughter’s anger progressively changing into a mixture of sadness and incomprehension.

“No, no one is more important than you.” Rena gathered her into her arms. “Don’t ever think that.” When she heard the soft sniffing against her neck, she strengthened her hold. “Your mama loves you more than anyone in this world.” Rena gently pulled away, wiping away the budding tears forming in Natsuki’s glistening eyes. “She would never do anything to make you sad, and I know she will make it up for it.”

Rena smiled at her confidently, and drew her back into a long, comforting hug. After a while, she heard the crying diminishing and she approached Duran closer to the little girl, relieved when it wasn’t rejected. “Why don’t I ask Alfred to come and play with you?” Rena offered, playfully pulling onto the dog’s tail, pretending to want to steal it from her. “What do you think? There’s still time before dinner.” When Natsuki pulled the stuffed toy into her arms in a possessive gesture, and her gaze lingered on the untouched toy box, Rena hid a smile, sensing her daughter’s mood had considerably improved.

“Yes, I’ll call Alfred.” Rena placed a kiss on her cheek.

**********

Rena spent the following half-hour finishing some work, reassured by the high level of noise and laughter coming from upstairs. Natsuki seemed to have swapped back to her usual cheerfulness in Alfred’s presence, and it never ceased to amaze her how fast children were capable of going from one mood to the next. On occasions, Rena would look out the window, wondering what could be delaying her wife so much, and hoping she wouldn’t forget to take an umbrella to protect herself from the pouring rain.

She had almost reached the bottom of the financial report she was reading, when a sudden scream reached her.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

At the sound of her daughter’s alarmed voice, Rena raised her head from the digital tablet and left it aside on the table, standing up from the chair to join her upstairs. The instant she opened the bedroom door, she faced Natsuki’s frightened look.

“Mommy! Alfred isn’t speaking anymore!”

Rena glanced down at the humanoid robot standing by her daughter’s side, his eyes extinguished and void of their familiar blue glowing light. As she studied further her daughter’s small companion, she noted something else: the light located on the right side of his neck had turned red. “Hum, I see. Maybe he simply needs to recharge.”

Rena kneeled and lifted the robot, carrying him out of the bedroom and downstairs, closely followed by her daughter’s hurried steps. Once in the living room, she placed the domestic robot on the recharging station. She found it a bit odd. Such an incident had never happened. When his batteries were low, the robot would systematically take the direction of the recharging station on his own.

She waited for the result, Natsuki burning with anticipation beside her with Duran secured in her arms, yet was surprised when the light didn’t turn orange as usual when the robot was on charge. Rena removed Alfred from the recharging station, believing in a temporary connection problem, then put it back in place. She repeated the process a few more times, but despite her best efforts, the light remained desperately red. “I’m not sure what the problem is. Mama will check it when she gets home, alright?”

“W-What if Alfred never speaks again? What if I can’t play with him anymore?” Natsuki stammered, petrified.

“Of course, you’ll play with him again,” Rena said reassuringly, softly caressing her shoulder. “Mama often improves Alfred so he can be more intelligent and spend more time with Natsuki every day. Alfred is getting old now. He probably needs more time to rest, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

Rena gave her a smile, and saw her relax slightly. “Why don’t you go back and play in your room? I’ll call you when it’s dinner time.”

Natsuki looked hesitant. “I don’t want to. Can I wait for mama with you?”

“Of course.” Rena embraced her, kissing her temple. “I still have a bit of work to do. Why don’t you watch some TV in the meantime?”

Natsuki beamed in reaction, and Rena watched her retreating form as she walked away and jumped on the sofa, immerging herself in a cartoon. Rena returned to her work, yet quickly lingered back on her daughter. Two unhappy events in the same day were definitely too much to handle for such a young girl, but Rena was convinced everything would go back to normal once Jurina would return.

**********

Rena stared up at the digital clock on the wall: 8 p.m. Usually, Alfred was the one to remind her of the time when she let herself get carried away by work, but the daily routine had been abruptly disrupted. Rena turned off the digital tablet and slipped it in her briefcase, beginning to feel concerned by Jurina’s absence. Seizing the Bluetooth device from the table and, noting she hadn’t received any message from her, she decided to give her wife another call. Her new attempt was met with the same result, and she fell onto the voicemail.

Powerless, she darted a look towards the living room; Natsuki’s attention was still entirely monopolized by the cartoon playing on the television. “Honey, it’s 8 p.m. Can you put the table on?”

Natsuki glanced back in her direction; her eyebrows arched in surprise. “We’re not waiting for mama?”

“I don’t know when mama is coming home, and it’s already late. So it’s best if we start eating without her,” Rena gently explained.

Natsuki switched the television off and slowly climbed off the sofa, Rena not missing the slight dejected look on her face as she entered the kitchen. A silence fell as they ate dinner, none of them having the desire to respect this usual time for convivial sharing. Rena could see that Natsuki was feeling down, but she was having difficulty finding the adequate words to cheer her up, equally disturbed by the situation. The reasonable part of her brain was telling her that there had to be a simple, logical explanation for Jurina’s tardiness, but the lack of news and contact from her struck her as odd and unsettling.

The sound of the front door ringing extracted both family members out of their thoughts, a sudden cry of joy escaping Natsuki’s lips as pleasure plastered her features. For a split moment, Rena did share her enthusiasm, also believing the missing member of the family was finally home, and she stood up from the table. However, her smile progressively faded away as she entered the hallway, and realized something didn’t make sense. Jurina would never ring to enter her own house.

When she opened the front door, she was faced with two police agents, their long black uniforms drenched from the rain, standing on her doorstep. “Good evening, Matsui-san. I’m agent Kimura,” said the first male officer, then motioned the female agent by his side. “And this is agent Inoue.” He removed his cap, politely bowing to her. “We apologize for disturbing you at such a late time of the day. May we come in?”

“O-Of course.” Rena stepped aside, letting them in, noticing the young female agent’s attention drawn to Natsuki who had joined her side.

“Hello, what’s your name?” The female agent asked with a gentle smile, and leaned down to her height.

“M-My name is Natsuki.” Came the shy reply.

“Hello, Natsuki. I’m Inoue-san. Your mommy needs to have a talk with my partner. Would you mind showing me your bedroom?” She asked, then glanced up to the head of the family. “That would be alright with you if I stayed a bit with her?”

Rena found herself momentarily at a loss for words by the strange request, but nodded in agreement, giving Natsuki an encouraging light tap on the back when she saw her eyes flickering hesitantly between the police agent and her. “It’s alright, honey. Go play in your room with the lady. I’ll call you when our conversation is over.”

Rena watched them leaving and climbing up the stairs - listening as Natsuki was prompt to present with enthusiasm her favorite stuffed toy to the female police officer – then was distracted by a male voice addressing her. “Matsui-san, are there other people present in the house?”

“No, it’s only me and my daughter,” Rena calmly answered. “My wife should be on her way from work. May I know what this is about?”

“Do you mind if we take a seat?” He bowed and said, indicating the direction of the living room.

Rena found her interlocutor a bit stiff, but chose to ignore it, nodding in agreement. She led the way, listening to the heavy steps of the male officer’s boots behind her, until she stopped in front of the table and offered him a seat. Once he had settled down, she mimicked his gesture and pulled a chair. The silence that followed between them felt almost heavy, Rena not missing the way the male police officer was nervously avoiding her gaze while he placed his cap down on the table.

Rena was about to repeat her unanswered question, when the new visitor faced her back and opened his mouth.

“I’m afraid I have some very bad news to tell you. Your wife was involved in a car accident. According to initial findings, the driver fell asleep, and the car’s radar system didn’t detect in time your wife’s presence on the crosswalk.”

Rena’s heart raced; her whole body stiffened. “A car accident? How is she? Is she at the hospital?”

The male police officer shifted uneasily in his seat. “The damage was too severe. By the time the ambulance arrived on the scene, it was already too late.”

“I don’t understand. W-Where is she?” Rena’s voice quivered; she felt a tightness in her throat. “Is she at the hospital? Is it serious? When can I see her?”

“You wife didn’t survive,” the male agent said, his voice filled with pain and empathy. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Rena felt dizzy and lightheaded. “No, it’s not… it’s not possible. It has to be a mistake. You must have the wrong person.”

“I’m afraid there’s no mistake. We found your wife’s ID card in her vest pocket. I know my words will never be enough to alleviate your pain, but the paramedics said she died instantly. She didn’t suffer.”

Rena vaguely heard the officer’s words, but barely understood them. Her headache became suddenly acute. A nausea seized her, and she had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. The room seemed to swell around her; she could hardly breathe. The last thing she distinguished was the police officer’s alarmed voice calling her name, before blackness swept over her and she faded into unconsciousness.

[classysassy9791]

Ch. 1

Chapter 2 Word Count: 4,100 Can also be found here

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"I want you to be strong, like I know you can."

Dawn crested over the horizon, awakening the small animals that scurried out from beneath the thicket as birds of song flew overhead. The warmth of the sun kept away the early morning chill in the air, as a young boy began to rouse from sleep, tucked away in the midst of long, golden fields. He nuzzled his face further into the soft fur beneath his head, sighing deeply with content.

"Come, son," a deep voice spoke, as they nudged the boy's chin to keep the dreams at bay.

Squinting against the intruding sunlight, Shippou lazily opened his eyes to be greeted with the clear blue skies above. Wisps of clouds rolled lazily by and he could hear the croaking of a toad from the nearby pond. He tightened his hand into a fist and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, his mouth opening in a deep yawn. .

The wet nose retracted from his face. "Day has approached. It's time to wake."

Bright green eyes opened fully to peer up at the demon above him. Armor covered his golden fur, which shimmered in the sun, and his brown gaze held the warmth of fire.

"Father?" Shippou whispered, stretching his arms over his head.

The fox demon chuckled and waited for the boy to rouse completely. "Sleeping the day away is not a wise decision, Shippou. There is still much to learn before the Fox Demon Promotional Exams."

He nodded mutely and slowly stood, causing his shaggy auburn hair to fall into his eyes. His father uncurled his tail from around him and padded out from beneath the tree they had slept under for the night. "Of course, Father," Shippou replied sleepily, shaking his head to clear away the remaining drowsiness. He felt more tired than usual, he noted dully.

It took another few minutes before he was fully awake, and during that time excitement slowly began to build within his chest. Training had always been his favorite part of the day. He couldn't wait to become a great demon – he would grow up to be big and strong, just like his father!

Suddenly, a loud thump came from behind him, causing him to jump wildly. He cried out dramatically, quickly finding cover behind his father's hind paw, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest as fear crept over him like a winter's chill. His father gave out a big-bellied laugh as Shippou noticed the dead rodent laying at their feet. The tall grass parted, revealing a beautiful fox demon. With her humanoid features and copper-colored hair pulled back by a blue ribbon, it was obvious which parent Shippou took after. Upon recognizing her, the small fox demon visibly relaxed and sighed with relief.

"My, that is not the way for a warrior to act." His father chuckled.

"But I'm just a kid," he argued begrudgingly, puffing out his cheeks while his arms crossed over his chest.

Kind, emerald eyes flickered over him, lips pulled into a smile. "Oh dear, you sure are spirited this morning." Her laughter rang like the tinkling of bells. "Shall you eat breakfast before your training? I'm sure no warrior will fight well without a proper meal."

He grinned ear-to-ear at her words, his previous annoyance already forgotten. "Of course, Mother," he answered cheerfully.

He scampered over to her, eager and ready to satisfy the hunger gnawing at his stomach. But when he glanced up, no longer did the beautiful fox demon stand before him. Instead, she had been replaced by the image of a human girl. Obsidian hair spilled softly over her shoulders and she dressed in a strange, white and green outfit. Most of her face was shadowed, darkened, but he could see the up-turn of her lips, the grace of her smile. She waved to him, his name a whisper, "Shippou."

Perplexed, Shippou quickly shut his eyes and shook his head. He must be seeing things, and he was, for when he looked back at his mother's confused expression, the human girl had disappeared.

"Is everything all right?" the female fox prodded gently, concern evident in her voice.

He wasn't sure what to think, but decided to chalk it up as some kind of illusion. He nodded his head curtly and grinned. "Yeah, everything's great!"

As the small family sat around their morning meal, Shippou found his mind elsewhere, studying the pretty girl in his head. He couldn't remember ever meeting someone like that before, so why did she appear to him now? Furthermore, who exactly was she? The human appeared nothing like the villagers he had seen, and didn't resemble a holy person either.

However, he couldn't help but notice the longing in his heart and the sting of tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. He closed his eyes to bring forth the image of her once more, but he couldn't. It was as if she had never existed.

. . .

The rich smell of damp leaves permeated the forest as wisps of silver-gray steam curled and danced their way through the air, as if excited to escape the gentle pull of the hot springs. Water splashed quietly over tiny falls as an owl hooted nearby. Eerie noises always accompanied the night, but in the warmth of the springs, it felt like a little safe haven.

Shippou giggled with glee as he jumped off the rocky edge and into the water. A small splash sent a cascading wave over his mother and father, the latter of whom roared with laughter. In this moment, it became the most perfect memory of his family, and Shippou would cling to it for a long time. It was the way his family should always be.

In that snapshot, the undamaged personality of his family was so golden and sacred; he wanted to keep it forever.

"Calm down, Shippou," his mother chastised him from her place against the rocks, holding up her hands to defend against another splash. "There is no need to be so playful."

"Let him play," his father contended with a grin. "He will only be a boy once. He should enjoy it." He growled happily and nudged his mate's cheek with his nose.

Shippou snickered, watching as his parents loved one another.

"Yeah, Mama," he joked. "I'm just a kid."

That earned him a playful glare from his mother, whose next words quickly died on her tongue by her mate's kiss. Heat crept up Shippou's neck as he glanced away, embarrassed by his parents' show of affection.

It wasn't uncommon for them to be tender toward one another. He considered it normal for his family, but as he grew older, he found himself wondering if he would ever have those feelings. He didn't have any friends, but his father assured him he would meet plenty of other fox demons once he entered into the Fox Demon Promotional Exams. Ever since then, he only dreamt about all the other foxes he would meet.

Shippou turned on his back and floated on top of the hot springs. The water moved softly around his outstretched fingers, caressing them warmly, moving circularly in their wake. He pulled his hand back and watched the drips, both transparent and opaque from the steam.

He glanced upward, his eyes ghosting over the half-moon night, accompanied by a flurry of stars. They illuminated the darkness, bordered by tall tree branches overhead. It was another perfect evening, so innocent and full of love. His parents' mumbled conversation could be heard in the distance, but as he dunked his head into the water, their voices became muffled completely.

He closed his eyes and simply floated beneath the water, letting his mind wander to everything and nothing.

"Think of all the fun things you can do when there's two of you," he heard himself say.

"Listen kid…" a gruff voice replied with annoyance.

"Mom and dad and I always took baths together, and we had a really great time."

"Remind me to explain it to you when you're a bit bigger."

His eyes shot open in alarm and he struggled to the surface of the pond. He pushed through the water into the steamy air above, gasping for breath. He quickly glanced around the hot springs, his eyes darting between the rocky shores, but there was nobody there.

"Is everything all right, Son?" his mother called, worried from where she sat upon one of the rocks.

His chest heaved as he drew in breath, blinking against the water dripping from his bangs. What was that just now? The conversation felt so real… surely he had never said those things. And that gruff voice… where had it come from? Who had it belonged to?

"Son," his father said sternly, moving through the water toward him. "What's wrong?"

Shippou quickly shook his head and gave his father a shaky smile. "N-Nothing's wrong. Everything's fine."

The elder fox demon gave him a skeptical look, but finally exhaled deeply before returning to his mate's side.

His head whirling from what he had experienced below the water, Shippou couldn't help the fear creeping up his spine. That vision, those voices… it felt almost as if he was remembering something, a figment of his imagination long forgotten.

Was that truly what it was? A memory?

. . .

The adrenaline flooded his system, right into his blood. He felt like his heart would explode and his eyes were wide, letting in every ounce of the fading light. His body wanted to either run fast for the hills or work to find some kind of weapon, but instead he stayed perfectly still right where he knelt. Sometimes freezing became the best choice, and in reality, he only had three choices anyway.

Shippou fought to quell the hammering in his chest, but he knew that would never happen. He watched through the brush carefully as he hid behind a tree, his ears alert to the surrounding forest life. He didn't regret coming. It had been his mission, after all. But he wondered why he felt so scared? No other demons seemed to be. Maybe they were, he silently noted. Maybe they were scared all the time. Perhaps that was the definition of bravery.

An agonized howl reached into the darkening sky as rain fell from the heavens.

Shippou blinked away the memory, shaking his head to regain focus. Suddenly, golden light from ignited fire appeared a few paces to the east. His adrenaline surged so fast, he almost vomited. He could feel the saliva thickening in his mouth as he swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. At some point, he would have to move, but he was frozen in absolute terror.

"I'm just a kid," he whispered aloud into the night air, his voice trembling even to his own ears. "Why me?"

"Come out, little fox," a grating voice taunted through the forest. "I know you're here somewhere."

The demon drew closer. Shippou squeezed his eyes shut as he battled with himself to move. He could feel his legs shake beneath him and his hands were no better.

"Father," he cried out softly.

"It's okay to be afraid, Shippou. Without fear, there would be no courage. A strong demon knows when to run and when to fight."

"R-Right," the fox kit mumbled, opening his eyes. "I have to be strong."

With a deep breath, he ventured from his hiding spot and sped through the forest, his heart pounding as he heard his pursuer's quickening footsteps behind him. He had to think of something. His mind racked over all his fox magic and tricks, contemplating which one to use. Time was running out. He needed to make a decision fast.

Furrowing his brows, he jumped up and climbed the trunk of a tree high into its branches. From there, he could have a better vantage point of the forest floor. He rested one arm over his bent knee, waiting quietly for his opponent. His abilities were not very strong yet, and they were mostly for defensive maneuvers, but he had to try.

Blood splattered against the ground, staining it red.

"Little fox," the demon called out again, coming to stop just beneath him. His snake-like tongue flickered out of his mouth to taste the air. "I can smell your fear. You're here somewhere."

Shippou gulped, taking out a small top from an inside pocket. "Here goes nothing," he whispered. "Smashing top!"

In one fluid motion, he threw the top straight toward the green, lizard demon, which looked up with wide-eyes. The top grew in size, spinning and causing a large wind to encompass them. It landed straight on the demon's head, forcing him to crumple to the ground.

Wasting no time, Shippou threw a ball of blue fire from his hand, surrounding the spinning top with flames. It spread and spun in a dizzying fashion, setting the strong wind around them on fire. It seemed to stop the demon for the time being, but unfortunately it was only an illusion and wouldn't hold him for long.

Shippou turned and jumped along the surrounding trees, galloping across the branches to put distance between him and his opponent. When he could barely feel the rush of the wind from his attack, he dropped to the forest floor and placed a leaf upon his head. "Transform!"

In a cloud of smoke, he vanished, and in his place stood a young man who looked like any ordinary villager. He quickened his pace through the trees, praying he somehow tricked the demon in order to make his escape.

His father knelt down, clutching a body to his chest, as auburn hair spun softly over his arm, a blue ribbon shifting with the breeze.

"I have to be strong," he muttered to himself, memories of that dark day swirling through his mind. I need to protect the ones I care for. I need to—

His thoughts were cut short as a slimy claw wrapped around his body, the ground disappearing beneath him, bringing a shriek from his throat as his disguise vanished and reverted him back to his small, fox demon self.

"Let me go!"

The demon picked him up to look at him, tongue hanging out as thick saliva dripped from his mouth. "Thought you could fool me?" he sneered, eyes narrowing with rage.

"Don't eat me!" Shippou begged as he clenched his eyes shut, pushing and tugging against the claws that held him in its grasp. "I don't even taste good!"

A sudden howl of laughter reached his ears, startling the kit. He opened an eye, peering curiously at the demon. "You've done well, Shippou."

The demon suddenly began to shrink, changing back into its original form as a mere toy, and Shippou was released onto the ground. A large, fox demon appeared and picked it up, stuffing it back into the pocket of his vest. He chuckled at the boy's annoyed glare. Shippou puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That was playing dirty, Father," he grumbled.

"Nonsense," the elder fox demon claimed, setting his hands on his hips. "I told you I wasn't going to hold back."

"You didn't have to be so scary," he argued, a blush dusting the bridge of his nose. "Besides, how can I defeat that terrifying of a monster? I'm not that strong yet."

"But you will be one day. I'm simply preparing you for what to expect when the time comes."

Shippou tugged at the blue ribbon that held his hair back, letting his fingers linger on it, before pulling away and straightening out the rest of his clothes. "I'm never going to be ready at this rate."

His father scooped him up in his arms and placed him on his shoulder. "You will be," he assured as they ventured toward home. "We just need to train a little harder."

"Great job on that lizard demon, Shippou."

Emerald eyes wide, Shippou quickly scanned the forest in search of the owner of the voice. It felt so familiar, and yet the trees surrounding them were empty. Only he and his father were present, leaving the kit to wonder if he had even heard the man's voice at all.

"Yeah," he finally replied distractedly to his father's statement, looking down into his hand. He clenched and unclenched his fist, mulling over the voice before chalking it up to a figment of his imagination.

But he couldn't deny that he felt a little surer of himself.

. . .

Sun filtered through the green canopy above as fresh fallen rain dripped from the leaves. Shippou eyed the red apple in his hand curiously, twisting and turning it every angle as he pondered. Advancing in the Fox Demon Promotional Exams had been harder than he thought. It had been fairly simple at first; trick a few lowly villagers and jump three ranks no problem. But now, he had to do that to a dozen villagers to even gain a tenth of a point.

He wrinkled his nose as he took a bite of his apple, wet and crisp as it broke between his teeth with a soft crunch. His father had stayed behind at home, encouraging Shippou to return once in a while to let him know how it was going, insisting that this was a journey the young kit had to take on his own – to find his strength and independence. Which was why he had traveled away from the other competitors only hoping to find some new meat to toy with.

Suddenly, there was the sound of bells. He closed his eyes in response, the clanking of metal sounding so familiar. Of course it sounds familiar, he silently admonished. It's metal. But he couldn't figure out why the sound of the bells was accompanied by the image of a monk's staff, the rings jingling as the owner beat the path beside him.

Images came to him in rapid flashes; a male figure leaning against a golden staff - the same golden rod used as a weapon in battle - shouting over his shoulder, the gleam of the staff catching his eyes - talking to this man like an ally - all too fast to make sense of, and all too strange to be done by what he presumed was a holy man.

'Holy man? More like a ladies man.' The memory called out to him, the sound of his voice causing a sharp pain that brought him to tremble.

As if on cue, he heard a shuffling beneath him and glanced down between the leaves, catching sight of a man walking along the dirt path. Dressed in purple cloth, it appeared as if he was a holy person of some sort. A monk or priest perhaps? His heart leapt into his throat at the similarities before he quickly shook his head.

Now was not the time to have a mental break down. Training his thoughts back on the Fox Demon Promotional Exams, a sly grin slid onto Shippou's face as he finished his apple and stuffed the core into a hole in the tree.

If he was able to trick a man of the cloth, he would jump ranks in the exams.

"Come to papa," he snickered, quietly dropping down to a lower branch to catch a better look.

The dark-haired man came upon a fork in the road and glanced in both directions. He jingled the golden staff he had in his left hand before promptly letting it fall to the ground. It landed on the path veering toward the right.

"So, I should go right," he murmured, furrowing his dark brows as he glanced down the aforementioned direction.

Two traveling village men walked up behind him, conversing with each other. "Did you hear about the new woman working at the rest house up ahead?"

The monk glanced over his shoulder at them.

"They say her fair complexion and beautiful eyes are unparalleled," the second man responded. "And I understand she's unattached."

Laughing, the first guy sarcastically snipped, "I could use a bite to eat," as both men continued down the path to the left.

"Just what I was thinking."

The man watched after them for a moment, before placing his foot on the edge of the staff and turning it so it pointed toward the other path. "Divine intervention."

Emerald eyes peered closely at the man as he grabbed his staff and stood, immediately following after the villagers. He raised a brow. "I thought he was a holy man, but he sounds like a ladies' man to me," he grumbled.

An evil grin pulled at Shippou's cheeks as he narrowed his eyes. He now had an idea as to how he was going to trick the poor monk.

The sound of bells kept pulling at the back of his mind, making his head ache, but he forced himself to ignore it. Getting distracted would certainly spell failure, and he really needed to win this one.

Quickly running through the brush to get ahead of him, Shippou placed a leaf on his head, whispering, "Transform." In his place was a beautiful village woman, who apparently had fallen and twisted her ankle. He snickered, hearing the monk approach. This was going to be good.

Groaning in obvious distress, the woman rubbed her ankle gingerly. The man of the cloth waltzed up, his brows raised, as he eyed the predicament she had gotten herself into.

"Oh my," he spoke. "What do we have here?"

"Oh, Priest, I've fallen and hurt my ankle. I don't think I can walk," she beckoned, tears springing to her eyes.

He kneeled down beside her, offering her a warm smile. "There, there, now. I'll help you to the rest house ahead."

"Goodness, you are so kind, Priest," she purred, batting her eyelashes.

"I'm a monk, not a priest," he clarified, offering his hand. When she grasped it believing he would help her stand, he instead clasped his other hand over hers. "You are so beautiful. Would you grant me the honor of bearing my children?"

Is he serious?! Shippou felt heat creep up his neck and flush his cheeks. "U-Uh… O-Oh my, monk," he replied, his voice quivering. Stay in character! he mentally chastised himself, clenching his jaw as he tried to keep his transformation intact. I won't last much longer…

The monk only continued to smile, making Shippou wither under his gaze.

"Y-Yes, I will bear your children!" the woman finally agreed quickly.

His brows shot up in surprise. "You will?"

"O-Of course! For such a kind man as you, I will do anything!"

Poof!

Oh, no! Shippou inwardly groaned, feeling his tail twitch in the open air. Hopefully he didn't notice!

"Anything?" the monk questioned, violet eyes twinkling, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as if ready to pull her to her feet.

"A-Anything," she replied in earnest. Come on, stupid! Take the bait!

He cleared his throat, and quickly dropped her hand. "Then perhaps do better than a woman when trying to trick a pure man such as myself."

With that, Shippou's transformation ended, the cloud of smoke revealing his small fox demon self.

"Why you!" he called out, shooting an angry glare at the man. "How did you know?"

The monk shrugged. "I've known since I first saw you. Your demonic aura is weak, but detectable. Did you honestly think that ruse would work on me? I am a man of the cloth. Your tricks can do me no harm."

He turned away and began walking down the path once more. "Wait! I'm a demon. Aren't you going to slay me?"

Turning, the man gave him a smile and a knowing glance. "You're just a child, hardly a threat to anyone."

"Oh, I'll show you!" he grumbled, scrunching his nose and puffing out his cheeks in distaste, watching the monk walk away from him.

Inwardly, Shippou swore he would get his revenge on that monk. No matter what! He had a reputation to build, after all.

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Pairing: Sophia x Fenrir

Hey look, I actually completed another thing! Thanks to @plumpblueberry for loving my ocs as much as I do! <3

Sophia didn’t care for the wild party that had been thrown in her honor. Meaningless comradery. Having been at headquarters for only two hours, it seemed inappropriate to be celebrating her. She didn’t drink in excess either, knowing how alcohol affected the human body in large quantities turned her away from it. How long was this meant to last? Surely not much longer.

“A doctor that doesn’t drink, that’s a rare sight,” Sirius commented, joining her at the edge of the crowded room. Her sour expression made him worry that she would dislike the army more than before.

Her eyes flickered to him then back to the rowdy room before her. “I drink, occasionally.” She hadn’t the slightest urge to join in.

Sirius laughed. “You marked on our contract. Something you don’t like, little lady?” An entire paragraph had been struck through, maybe more. He could only see a little of the paper that she’d tugged under her arm. Never in his time in the army had a recruit marked up the contract of service, though something told him that this woman would not fit the mold of a normal recruit.

“I dislike nicknames. Sophia is perfectly acceptable.” Nicknames meant closeness, a bond that came over time. Neither of those things applied in her current position. Sophia stepped expertly out of the path of a drunken soldier coming up behind her as smoothly as one would move to a Waltz and fell back into her spot beside the Queen of Spades.

Another light chuckle passed his lips, clearly impressed with her. “You’ll fit in just fine here, Sophia.” He imagined it would take some getting used to, but someday, she might begin to feel at ease here. Nodding his head at the document, he asked, “If you’d like to discuss it, I’m free.”

The two relocated up to the office for a quieter and more private place to speak. Allowing him a moment to scan over her correction to the form, Sophia began to explain, “I took an oath as a doctor to do no harm, no matter who the patient may be. Impartial treatment. Just because I agreed to this job, doesn’t mean that I will be a soldier. I’m a doctor.”

Sirius listened with a soft smile. He saw no reason to enforce that code when he himself did not partake in fighting often. “I think we can arrange for that to be cut from the contract and your revision made.” He scanned the writing once again, bringing up the next clause. “You want to continue working for the clinic in your free time?”

“I’ll be passing my chief of staff position to another capable doctor at the clinic, but I see no reason to send in a resignation when there will be times that I can still be there to assist in taking care of patients. Our clinic is the best in Central Quarter, and as such, we get quite a lot of patients and there aren’t enough qualified doctors in Cradle to care for them,” Sophia said. It had been quite rundown when she first arrived there after medical school, having 5 staff members with only one doctor.  

Rising from the chair, she strapped her medical bag over her torso. Officially on active duty as the Black Army doctor at 8 AM the following morning, it left the remainder of the night shift open for her to work. Sirius promised to cover for her, though the rest of the men were probably too drunk to notice her absence.

Her pause at the door drew his attention. “There’s one more request I’d like to make.”

***

Central Quarter had been nearly abandoned at this hour. Shop windows were darkened, stalls cleared of all their products, awaiting the dawn of a new day. Only a handful of business had lights on: bars, clubs, and the clinic at which she worked. They were the only center in town that stayed open all night. The door creaked as she entered, announcing her arrival happily.

Passing through the waiting room, Sophia glanced over the handful of patients waiting to be seen. A few too many for her liking. Was this how the clinic would be run without her in charge? “We will be with you shortly, thank you for waiting patiently,” Sophia offered, all eyes turning on her. Many of the faces familiar.

A murmur of thank yous filled the space. Sophia entered the single door that led to the main trauma room, a half circle room with many exam rooms lining it. The nurses at the desk never lifted their heads, as if avoiding her gaze entirely. Odd behavior on their part, as the station was the main hub of chatter.

Intent on simply grabbing a patient file and setting to work, Sophia only gave a short greeting. Something was amiss.

The rustling of her bag drew her pale blue eyes downward, much too late to stop her colleague from snatching the first page of the contract. A quick skim brought a lopsided grin to his face. “Congratulations, Sophia! You’re officially the Black Army Doctor!”

Party poppers exploded around her, the nurses having been diligently awaiting the verdict. The rain of colorful confetti floated around the unamused doctor. “I’m glad that in my absence, the clinic will be in the hands of you lot.” Her hands picked at the pieces sticking to her raven hair. Highly unsanitary, yet it did bring the softest of smiles to her lips.

A round of congratulations broke out among the staff and some regular patients loitering around the check in desk. The spectacle growing bigger by the second. Sophia shook her head, holding back the laughter from their antics. “Don’t get too excited, you aren’t getting rid of me completely.”

“But you took the job, right?” Carter asked, waving the paper around as if reminding her of her own decision.

“Yes, but I will still be here from time to time, and you can always send for me,” She answered, continuing to pick pieces of confetti from her hair. Some were so tiny that it would near impossible to remove them all.

Carter gave a dramatic sigh. “Damn.”

“Don’t look so disappointed.”

The doors to the largest trauma room burst open, Marius in a frenzy. “Dr. Emerson! We have a problem. He’s crashing!” He called, shattering the light atmosphere.

Everyone moved in sync, practiced movements like a well-oiled machine. Sophia tied her hair back, snatching some gloves from a box fixed on the wall just before entering the room. Blood had begun to drip off the table, staining the white floors.

The man, Jeff Grant, had been opened on the table, the source of his bleeding come from an organ. Marius gave a hasty overview. A farming accident, barbed wire embedded in his stomach, but it had all been removed. The bleeding had been under control until a few moments ago. “I can’t find where it’s coming from. It’s too hard to see.”

“You can’t always use your eyes, Marius,” Sophia said, dipping her hand in to move the intestines out of the way. With her free hand, she prodded at the organs buried underneath. The clock was ticking. Soon, he would bleed out on the table. “Kayla, hang another bag of A positive blood. Alright, there’s a large tear in his pancreas. We need to stitch it up or he’s going to die. Marius, prep.”

His ocean blue eyes widened at her words. He had only graduated medical school a year ago and started his residency just after. “You want me to do it?” Kayla laid out the tools neatly on a rolling tray, sliding them up next to him.

Sophia’s sharp gaze rose from the patient to him. “You learn by doing. You want your patient to live, stitch him up. You’ve studied this. Now, Marius. He has five minutes before his blood volume is too low to reverse and he will be dead on this table.” She had faith in her employees, doctors and nurses alike.

Marius took a deep breath, nodding at her words. Though his mind wavered, steady hands took to the task. Sophia walked him through each step, relaying the process.

“You can’t go in there!” A shout came from just outside the door. Seconds later it burst open.

An out of breath Black Army soldier straightened up as best he could, despite having run all the way from headquarters to find her. “King Ray is calling you to the Garden. I was sent to escort you.” He gave a salute, out of respect for the new officer.

“Wait out front.” Her answer came short and with no visible signs that she would be leaving.

“It’s a direct order—” His sentence stopped at the cold gaze that greeted him. He went rigid, unsure of how to proceed.

Sophia would not be overrun by a mere soldier. This clinic might not be under her command anymore, but this soldier surely was. “Mr. Grant is going to bleed out if I let go of his intestines and Marius can’t stitch up the pancreas. So, unless you would like to take my place, I suggest you leave immediately.” His silence only infuriated her more. “Do I need to make it my first official order as the 5 of Spades?” Venom dripped from her threat.

The soldier fled, briskly exiting the room with a pale face.

“Kayla, can you get Carter in here?” Sophia requested. It would be a pain to have to deal with any backlash from being so late, but the patient came first. She was not going to let Mr. Grant die for a meeting.

Moments later, Carter whisked into the trauma room, a wicked grin gracing his features. “Is my damsel in distress?” He asked, stopping at her side. He would so miss getting to tease her as often as he had been used to. Though, the title of Chief of Staff sat well with him.

“Very funny.” Her blue eyes rolled, the signature response to his behavior. “Marius needs to close; the pancreas has been repaired. I have to step out.” She hated this, leaving a patient. Her commitment to the army was official, and she had to respect that.

“Duty calls?”

With a nod, Sophia reluctantly stepped away, disposing of her gloves. The Civic Center a mere five-minute walk away. The soldier sent to escort her never spoke a word, his face marked with unease. The Garden was a place where both armies came to meet, their top 13 leaders. The scowl grew deeper on her features.

He would be there.

A small mystery. Who’s it gonna be? Who in the Red Army does she not want to see? 

[jae-daddy]

Holic (8)

Jaebum AU

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / nine / ten / eleven

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mature

Plot: When the nights are cold and full of monsters, all you need is the warmth of someone to make it all disappear.

a/n: I will finish this before 15 april lol, i already have so many other series planned. but, i hope y’all enjoy this! 

You stood outside Jaebum’s door with sweaty palms and a pounding heart. 

It was well past one in the morning, and you knew you were going to suffer through another sleepless night if you just simply lay in bed. 

After scrolling through the same google articles about ways to sleep without drugs. Jaebum’s words from that afternoon in the garden flashed through your mind. 

If you ever have those nightmares again, I’m less than a door away.

‘That’s right,’ you nodded as you tried to reassure yourself. You didn’t come here on your own will, you were just taking up his offer so you don’t be rude. 

You were cruel, manipulative, but rude you were not. 

You let out a deep sigh as you fisted your hands and brought it up to the wooden door standing tall in front of you. 

You quickly landed three short knocks on his door; your lips caught between your teeth, and your nails biting faster into your palms. 

You watched the light peering from underneath the door, and you felt somewhat relieved. 

You were glad you weren’t waking Jaebum up from his slumber because your monsters were clawing at your feet during dark nights like tonight. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems. 

He shouldn’t have to share it anyway; he was your husband only in name. He was your husband, simply because he was your groom. 

Jaebum shouldn’t have to deal with your problems. 

“Hi,” Jaebum’s suited body greeted you with a raised eyebrow and somewhat surprised face. 

“Hi,” you replied, meekly, as you wrapped the silky gown tighter around your body. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m here to take up your offer.”

Jaebum’s lips quirked with an amused smile, making you glare at him in return. 

“I’m thankful that you did.” He replied, bringing a hand up to his heart in a dramatic gesture, bowing slightly, as he moved to the side letting you step through. 

“I didn’t want to be rude,” you responded with your chin high, as your body brushed past his. 

You were lying in his bed, under the dark green covers of his king size bed. 

You smiled as you took a deep breath in; the sheets smelled off Jaebum.

From far away, you’d think he’d smell like an expensive man in expensive cologne. That scent was there, but it was so miniscular, it was hidden beneath everything his warmth carried naturally. 

Jaebum smelled like the peak of a wintery mountain. He smelled of the rainforest, rain and of laundry and soap. 

You felt like you were crazy, thinking about how Jaebum smelt. Even crazier for remembering how smelt over all the years you’ve known him. 

In the beginning, he smelt of cake and freshly baked cookies. You always found that a bit off on someone who barely entered the kitchen, but you still welcomed it. 

You would always steal a sniff while playing house, then fight Jaebum, when he’d notice and call you out on it. 

“I see you still like sniffing things,” Jaebum’s voice made you jump in your spot. 

You pulled the blanket from your nose and turned to him with accusation in your voice. 

“I see you’re still imaging things,” you retorted with a confident voice, even though your heart was failing to return to its calm beat, after being caught in your crime. 

Jaebum shot you an eye roll, before turning off the lights as he walked towards the bed. 

“You know, if you were in Harry Potter,” you told Jaebum as he stood on the other side of the bed, untying his robe as he looked at you. “You’d probably be in Slytherin?”

Jaebum gave you an annoyed look, as he pulled the robe off his shoulders revealing his bare chest. Your cheeks painted red, and you tried to look away, but you didn’t want to seem weak. 

Therefore, instead of following the hardness and curves of his stomach and toned chest that called out to you. You zeroed into his eyes with a straight face. 

“We took the tests as kids, y/n,” he sighed, as he lifted the blankets beside you. “I was in Gryffindor.”

“We both know that was just your hero complex, and your desire to be like Harry Potter that took the quiz, not the real you.” You rolled your eyes at him, as the lazy smile danced on his pink lips. 

“Yeah, well, it is what it is,” he grinned at you. “I am in Gryffindor.”

“But truly belong in Slytherin,” you sang teasingly. 

“Just because you’re in it,” he stuck his tongue out before he lay down beside you. “You always want me beside you, don’t you?” 

“Do not,” you retorted instantly. 

“Then what’s this?” He smiled at you, with a challenging gaze.

“I’m just taking up your offer,” you pouted, before frowning. “However, if it’s too much of an inconvenience then I’ll just leave.” 

You trailed off, as you began climbing out. 

Before you could properly peel the sheets off yourself, Jaebum grabbed onto your wrist and pulled you down beside him. 

He wrapped his arms around you and hid your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Stay,” was all his soft low voice said.

Jaebum’s fingers ran through your hair, calming you and your racing heart, as his other hand wrapped around your waist. Your chest pressed against his bare one; the heat of his skin burning through the flimsy silk of your nightdress. 

“Why were you still wearing your suit when I knocked?” You hummed softly, as you finally rested your hands on his skin. 

You bit your lip to hide the giddy smile that was threatening to spill as you felt little jolts spark run from your palms and travel up your arm. 

“Because I was still working,” he sighed, as his fingertips drew small circles on your lower back. 

“So late?” You asked and felt him nod.

“One can say I’m a workaholic,” he paused for a moment, before changing the subject. “What about you? Why’d you come so late?”

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat, managing to reply in a raspy voice. 

“I had another nightmare, and you told me that I could come over, so I did.” 

“You did the right thing. Well done, y/n,” he commented, as he hugged you tighter. 

You both lay in silence for a few minutes, lost in thought and the sounds of your gentle heartbeats. 

“What happens in your nightmare?” he asked, softly. 

“It’s different parts of the same torture, but it’s always the same theme: me getting kidnapped.” You spoke after a few moments. “Some days they are taking me away. In some, I’m in the same dark room again, and I’m crying and yelling but no one can hear me. Sometimes, I hear them laugh through the door, and I try to stay quiet so they don’t come inside.”

“Y/n,” Jaebum blew out softly, as you choked on the threatening tears. “You don’t have to say it-”

“No,” you cut him off, quietly. “I’ve never told anyone this, and maybe this will help, you know?” 

You felt him nod against the top of your head, and you smiled lightly. 

“The worst of the nightmare is when I get home. 

“No one cared, Jaebum.” You shook your head with the bad memory replaying, not noticing your nails digging into Jaebum’s lower back. 

“They didn't ask me if I was alright, or if I was hurt. All they did was do damage control.” You smiled cynically at the memory of you returning home to your family. 

Your parents weren’t worried about you at all. 

Their faces were calculating their next moves on how to keep this away from the public. They didn’t care for the scars you had etched on your body, all they cared about was how to hide them.

“I cried for hours that night. I cried and cried, and I wished someone had walked into my room earlier and have realised I was gone. I wished someone would’ve found me sooner.” 

You let out a shaky breath, as you fisted the blankets between Jaebum and you. 

That night when you had returned, you wished with all your heart that Jaebum was there. That this moment was the moment he fulfilled his promise and returned back from wherever his parents took him. 

You had stared at the door, and counted to a hundred a million times, hoping Jaebum would walk in any second. 

“What I really wanted- needed- that night was for someone to walk in through those doors, and just hold me and tell me that I was okay, that I would get through this.”

That was the night you got over everyone and everything. 

That night you let go of Jaebum completely and shut him out. You wouldn’t even open up to your sister anymore, and you gave up on your parents entirely. 

“But no one did,” you hiccuped, as the memory closed on your throat. “No one gave me a second glance, while I waited in my room for them. No one came to help me because it was my sister’s birthday party downstairs.”

“I’m here now,” Jaebum whispered into your hair, as held you close to his flushed body. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you then, but I’m here now, and I’ll always be here.”

“I will protect you with everything that I have and am, y/n,” he moved back, his eyes searching your face, before staring into yours. 

Even in the dim lit room, glittering in the moonlight, you could see the raw emotions of love and affection dance in his eyes. 

You gulped under his intense gaze, as he looked at you as if you were the stars and moon on a cloudless summer night. 

“I promise. I will keep you safe,” he whispered, his hot minty breath falling on your parted lips. 

“You are so fucking magnificent, y/n.” He pressed his forehead against yours, as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

His large tender hands brushed the sides of your faces, as one tucked a loose strand behind your ear. 

“If you knew how much you meant to me,” his lazy smile returned to his lips, but as his eyes opened again, the same loving emotions remained. “You would think I’m stupid.”

You watched as his eyes trailed down to your lips for a few moments, before meeting your dark ones again. 

You felt yourself do the same, and you gulped with nervousness. 

One hand of his, dropped to your waist, squeezing it ever so slightly. You moved closer to his body, leaving no distance between your bodies.

Your palms lay flat against his chest, the hasty beating of his heart vibrating through your veins making you dizzy as it mingled with your own. 

“You’re lucky then,” you whispered, breathless,  as you moved closer to him.

Your lips hovered over his, and you noticed the nervous bobbing of his Adam's apple. 

His dark brown eyes stared at you, and you grinned up at him. 

“You’re lucky because I think you’re the biggest fool I’ve ever met.” 

You placed your hands on the side of his face before gently placing your lips on his. 

You smiled at the softness of his lips, and the faintly tightening grip of hands on your body. You smiled as you felt a jolt of happiness rush through you, as he kissed you back, 

You moved away from the lingering kiss, as you bit your lip nervously. 

“But I’m starting to think I’m a bigger fool.” 

You peered into his eyes feeling your lips tingle from the innocent peck, as your hearts beat faster than it did before.

You smiled at him with the softness of the cold winter morning breeze, and Jaebum returned one that filled your heart with sunshine. 

“You have no idea how crazy you drive me, y/n,” Jaebum told you with dark eyes and tender words. His fingertips lightly brushed the stray hair away from your face. 

“You can tell me anything you want, Jaebum,” you whispered back, in a low voice. “But, I won’t believe half it.”

Jaebum smiled at that and returned the knowing grin. 

“So just believe this one thing,” he whispered into your ear, as he tucked your head to his beating heart. “I will always back to you.”

You sunk closer into his arms, welcoming the heaviness of your eyes Jaebum’s heat brought.

“And so will my heart.” You heard his low voice breath before you fell into a peaceful slumber after a long long time. 

not edited

[im-basically-logan]

Painting in the Night

the title sounds way more dramatic than the fic actually is pff i wanted to write more moxiety. also i know nothing about nail polish lmao Summary: Patton catches Virgil painting his nails, so he joins in of course. Nail painting ensues. (universe alternate where the rooms don’t affect the other sides for convenience sake lmao) Words: 1,948 Ship: platonic Moxiety (you can read it romantic tho) TW: Uh none that I can think of! Other than very small moment of self-deprecation in the beginning Please send an ask/message me if i should add a trigger Genre: Fluff! @your-dark-strange-son @living-on-the-virge @lnfinitum @nokatai-realm @riverbendover @crowsketches

Sometimes when Virgil couldn’t sleep he got some of his nail polish out, turned on a lamp, and painted his nails. It was jet black, as expected, and although he didn’t put it on often, it was soothing to apply. The repetitious action was nice and the thought of having some killer nails made it worth it. He never told anyone, though, and usually picked it off before leaving his room. But tonight would be a bit different.

Patton made his way to the commons, craving a bit of a midnight snack. A few saltines and water was good. He was about to sit at the table when he felt that Virgil was awake. He wasn’t surprised, but a little worried all the same for the anxious side’s sleep schedule. He took a few packets of crackers with him and another water bottle then sank into Virgil’s room.

“Kiddo…?” He slowly entered to find Virgil on his bed painting his nails with a pair of earbuds in. Virgil jolted in surprise, accidentally pulling his earbuds out and almost spilling the bottle of nail polish that was on the bed.

“P-Patton!” He waved his hands awkwardly, closing the bottle with the cap and putting the hand with semi-painted nails to the side.

Patton jumped a little himself at the reaction, putting the snacks down on the end table. “Sorry, Virge, I didn’t mean to spook ya.” He gave a small smile, looking over curiously at the nail polish.

“I… it’s nothing. I just…” Virgil started, averting his eyes from Patton. “It’s… It’s stupid. I know. Um, you can leave if you want. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid at all!” Patton said, giving the other a bright grin. “I didn’t know you painted your nails. Is black all you have?” Virgil slowly nodded, surprised at the immediate acceptance. Patton pouted. Virgil needed a whole rainbow of colors to choose from!

“Wait right here, I also brought crackers and water if ya want,” Patton said before sinking out. Virgil watched as the moral side left in confusion. He just shrugged and took some crackers from the open wrapper to eat. He would trust Patton to come back.

Patton snuck into Roman’s room and took all the nail polish he could carry from a little drawer. He successfully made it back into Virgil’s room without waking the prince and gingerly placed the nail polish on the bed. There was an array of bright, dark, and even glittering paints. Patton hoped Virgil liked them-- and he did. His face practically lit up in surprise, his eyes scanning all the colors.

“Oh wow… Thanks, Patton,” Virgil said, giving Patton a genuine smile. “Where’d you get ‘em?”

Patton giggled as he answered. “Roman’s room.” Virgil let out a small giggle as well.

“I doubt he’d notice, he has so much stuff in his room.”

Virgil moved the crackers and water on the end table to make room for the nail polish. As he did that, Patton was setting up a happy playlist on his phone and plugged Virgil’s earbuds in. The playlist consisted of positive and calm songs and instrumentals. They both got settled, sitting criss crossed besides each other. Virgil took a purple and a shimmering gray bottle from the bunch, deciding to do a simple stripe pattern first on his semi-painted hand. He did a few strokes of gray on the remaining nails then let them dry. He then subconsciously began leaning on Patton, who didn’t mind at all. Virgil was finally relaxing and they were having bonding time.

“I’m glad you like them. I bet Roman would let you keep the nail polish, hehe!” Patton said, ruffling Virgil’s hair a little. Virgil at this point realized he was laying against Patton and was tempted to sit up, but he was surprisingly comfortable so he stayed put.

“He’d have to steal them from me if not,” Virgil commented with a smirk. “Thanks again, Pat.” Patton nodded, then began tapping his leg to the beat of the music. After a few minutes, Virgil checked the nail polish with the back of his unpainted nail. He tapped it lightly against the gray paint and decided it was dry enough so he took the purple bottle and applied some stripes to the gray. When he was done he carefully put the cap back on, Patton helping him in the process.

“They look really nice, Virge!” Patton exclaimed, stifling a squeal. Virgil had 2 black nails, and 3 gray and purple nails and he personally liked the latter a bit more.

“They look very polished,” Patton commented, earning a short laugh from the other. Virgil waved the hand a little, wishing it would dry faster.

“Heh, thanks.” Virgil looked away modestly, really unsure of how to take compliments. “Hey do you… Can I do your nails, Patton?” The side in question practically exploded with excitement as he nodded a firm ‘yes’ at Virgil. He laughed a little at the reaction, turning to put the purple and gray bottles on the table.

“Okay okay… What do you want?” He asked, grabbing a packet of saltines and dropping them on the bed. There would probably be crumbs but he could clean them up later.

Patton put a hand under his chin, thinking in a comedic manner. “Hmm… I dunno. Surprise me!” He shrugged. “Do whatever you want, kiddo!”

Virgil took a moment to think himself, then thought of the perfect thing. He didn’t want to spoil it quite yet so all he took was a blank white bottle from the table and placed it in between his ankles this time so it wouldn’t fall. He took one of Patton hands with his now dried hand. He held it up steady and covered a good third of each nail in the white on the tips. He repeated the same steps with the other hand.

“Oooh! Little tips! They look pretty,” Patton said, stretching his hands to see better.

“Just let ‘em dry first. I’m not done,” Virgil replied with a knowing smile. Patton raised a brow in interest, but didn’t say anything. Patton left his hands on his knees, calmly sitting with Virgil leaning on him again. After another few minutes, Virgil checked Patton’s nails with the back of his own. When he was satisfied that they were dry enough, he sat up and grabbed a red, orange, yellow, green, and blue bottle.

Patton gasped and his eyes lit up as he saw the colors Virgil chose.

“A rainbow!?” Virgil nodded with a soft chuckle, taking the red’s cap out first. He held Patton’s hand again, stroking a smooth line on Patton’s thumbnail that made the nail look like it was manicured. He progressed through the rainbow in the same manner, creating a rainbow on the other’s hand.

“How’s that look?” Virgil asked, closing the blue bottle.

Patton stretched out the rainbow nails with glee, looking at Virgil with pride. “It looks amazing, Virge!” He held back the urge to hug the other, not wanting to ruin the fresh coat of polish. Virgil smiled before reaching for the red nail polish to repeat on Patton’s other hand. He and Patton then listened to music as they waited for the new coat to dry.

“I’m glad you decided to do this,” Patton said, admiring his nails again.

“Um… Don’t mention it. You did get the other colors after all…” Virgil replied, glancing briefly at his small bottle of black nail polish. Patton began to tap his leg again to the beat of the song, subtly mouthing the lyrics as well. Virgil put the bottles of the rainbow back on the end table, taking a cracker out of the packet as he returned to leaning on Patton.

Patton checked himself that his nails were dry, although with the skin of his finger, but they were dry nonetheless.

“I bet Roman’ll be jealous,” Patton stated with a triumphant giggle.

“Probably.”

“Hey, Virge, can I do your nails?” The question was sudden, but Virgil didn’t really have to think twice before accepting Patton’s offer. “Oh great, kiddo! I’ll make ‘em look great!!” He grabbed a bunch of colors, the bottles making sharp sounds as he piled them on the bed then got to work. He gingerly lifted Virgil’s hand and covered a nail in white and the rest in black.

Patton looked at Virgil for instruction, something the anxious side never thought he’d see. “Alright so we just leave those to dry, right? I wanna put little designs on them!” Virgil nodded, but looked on in curiosity as to what the designs would be.

A few crackers and sips of water later, Virgil’s nails were dry and Patton began putting the little designs them. On the one white nail, Patton painted a light blue heart, the outcome looking smoother than he thought it would. Then on the index finger nail, he drew a light purple lightning bolt as best he could.

“I couldn’t fit your emblem’s rain cloud, but that’s what the thumb is for!” Patton explained, now dabbing the thumb with the same purple paint to make a cloud shape. Then he painted on a yellow smiley face on another nail and then painted a sparkly red diamond on the last nail. Virgil’s designs were a bit all over the place, but he liked them anyway.

“Now we’re nail buddies!” Patton said, beaming at Virgil who gave a thumbs up with the hand with dried nail polish. Virgil and Patton ate crackers, drank water, and listened to music as they waited for Virgil’s nails to dry, both now tapping to the beat of the music being played.

“I think they’re dry,” Virgil said, stretching his fingers out after checking to see if the polish was tacky or not, which it wasn’t. “Nice job, Patton.”

“You too, kiddo!” Patton gave Virgil a big hug, smiling into the other’s shoulder. As they broke off from the embrace, Virgil was still left there with a permanent, small smile on his lips.

“Thanks… Sorry I kept you up,” Virgil said, scratching his arm awkwardly. “It’s like… 4 am or something by now.” Patton shook his head, putting his hands on Virgil’s comfortingly.

“It’s fine, Virge, we’ll just have to sleep in for a while.”

“We?”

“Yes of course! You deserve a good night's rest too.” Patton took out his earbud and put the packet of crackers and nail polish bottles onto the end table, taking two crackers for Virgil and himself before putting the earbud back in.

“You can put on that a soft murmur thing with the music, right?” Patton asked, handing Virgil a cracker.

Virgil ate the cracker and picked up his phone, mumbling as he chewed.“Uh… yeah. I think so.” He opened up the app and sure enough, it worked with the music still playing. He softened the music slightly in order to hear the rain and thunder clearer. Patton snapped his fingers and his cat onesie was on.

“Y’mind if I sleep in here tonight, kiddo?” Patton asked. “I know you sometimes like to squeeze your pillows to fall asleep easier, but…”

“Sure,” Virgil finished. “You’d be much better than a pillow anyway.” He kept his jacket on as his usual pajamas and snapped on a pair of black sweatpants.

The two layed down in Virgil’s bed, Virgil behind Patton as he wrapped his arms around the other’s body to entangle Patton’s hands with his own. Patton squeezed Virgil’s hand briefly, hoping Virgil felt safe and secure. Their new polished nails could be seen all together now, two rainbows on a pair of hands and simple, little designs on the other pair.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

It’s gravity that pulls the rain down

Every B99 finale gets more dramatic, we all know that. I recently had an idea for the next one, after watching probably too many MsMojo Top 10 videos and a very specific scene from Pretty Little Liars.

I told @astrangetypeofchemistry about it, then wrote it, then she made me post it. Get ready for some fluff and angst.

Amy was floating. She was walking on clouds, the war between her feet and her shoes completely forgotten, banished into another dimension, one where she was no bird, no eagle, levitating high up in the sky, soaring through the fluffiest clouds to ever grace the skies. What was gravity even? It certainly didn’t seem to affect her anymore.

I do.

She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t contain the bounce in her every step. The actually cloudy sky outside wouldn’t faze her. If it rained, the eagle would simply fly higher, until it broke through the clouds, waiting for the rain to wash away the last remnants of any recent stress and worries, before it could dive back into the sea of cotton candy. (Amy didn’t know much about eagles.)

I do.

Three letters. Two words. One second. She couldn’t tell what was more intoxicating, saying those words herself or hearing him say them. Each time, she felt like her chest would swell so much it would explode any moment, creating a path for the billions of butterflies that were dancing inside her so wildly. They were in their own little bubble, far away from the rest of the world. She felt the slight tremble of both their hands, felt his thumb lightly stroke her knuckles, absentmindedly lingering on the new golden band on her ring finger.

The kiss they shared brought this moment to completion. Amy wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck and he pulled her close, their bodies pressed together, both of them holding onto the other for dear life, not giving in to their weak knees. Amy could taste the love on his lips, warm and soft and perfect, while her entire body was tingling, and she was sure she just ascended from the ground, ready to join the stars in the sky. A second later, however, her feet touched the ground again and somewhere in the back of her head she realized Jake had picked her up, but the rest of her mind was busy melting when they broke their kiss and she fell into a pool – no, two pools – of warm, brown sparkles, like a chocolate pudding made of love. Any other day, this comparison would have sounded too Charles to her, but right now, she knew nothing but him. Her husband.

On this day, nothing could bring her down. Not Charles’ over-enthusiastic comments about their wedding night, not the rain drops increasing in size and amount every other second, not her parents fighting with Karen and Roger over the right way to pour wine, or that Gina had finally annoyed the DJ so much that he simply gave in and played her playlist.

She was in the middle of a conversation with her great-aunt when the volume of the music suddenly peaked, prompting everyone who wasn’t on the other side of the room, far away from the DJ’s desk and a shocked Gina who quickly drew her hands away from it, to cover their ears.

That was when she felt it. For the first time since she woke up this morning, a frown crept onto Amy’s face. Something wasn’t right. She had a weird feeling in her gut, one that felt hauntingly similar to the tight strings pulling on her heart and tightening her chest and stomach that she usually associated with danger – more precisely, Jake and danger. She’d felt it when Geoffrey Hoytsman had abducted him, when he and Charles were trapped in that store during a robbery at Christmas, when he’d gotten that phone call from Figgis that sent him away from her for months, and of course at the horrible sound of that one little word – guilty.

Amy scanned the room for Jake but came up short. Her muscles just wouldn’t relax, and her heart was beating so hard she was sure it was visible, as if she were in a cartoon and–

She didn’t see Milton Boyle pull Gina away from the DJ, didn’t notice the music return to an agreeable volume, didn’t hear her great-aunt try to continue their conversation. She only saw Rosa. Her frown matched Amy’s as she warily eyed a door on the side. Amy ignored her great-aunt and made a bee-line for Rosa who was aiming for the door.

“Rosa, have you seen Jake?”

“I think he went outside, like, ten minutes ago.” She lowered her voice, frown deepening. “I think I just heard a gun go off.”

Amy’s heart jumped into her throat. Her gut twisted even more.

Rosa saw her paling. “Either that, or your husband’s playing with firecrackers outside. It’s probably that. Nothing to worry about.”

Amy nodded reluctantly. No need to panic. Everything was fine. This was her wedding day, the best day of her life. The only thing that could go wrong on this day, other than Gina messing with the music, was her husband (she loved the sound of that) destroying his suit and other people’s cars with firecrackers. Knowing him, he was probably planning something. Something involving firecrackers, and presumably fireworks and ridiculous music. He wasn’t in a fight with Figgis or Hawkins, that was impossible, no matter what her mind came up with.

Nevertheless, her weird gut feeling didn’t go away. So, just to prove to herself that everything was indeed fine, she opened the door and rushed through the small hall toward another door that led to the parking lot behind the venue, Rosa following her.

The rain had gone over into a drizzle. With half a mind not to ruin her dress and hair, Amy stopped in the doorway, the hand that had opened the door falling to her side.

The first thing she saw was cars, cars upon cars. Not far to her left, Jake stood with his back to her and Rosa who appeared only a second later. Amy didn’t see a fire or broken glass anywhere, and she heard no car alarm. Whatever Jake was doing out here, whatever Rosa had heard, it was fine. No matter what her gut told her.

“Jake?”

At first, he didn’t react. Just when Amy thought he hadn’t heard her, he spoke, murmuring something about the rain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rosa take a step forward, half into the drizzle that was now rapidly transitioning into a steady pour.

“What the hell are you doing, Peralta?” Rosa shouted over the rain. “It’s raining like crazy, come inside!”

Jake seemed to shake off whatever trance he’d been in and slowly turned around.

First, she noticed his dull eyes and pale face that suddenly turned into a grimace, as if he just now realized something. Then, as his eyes trailed down his body, hers followed him, stopping at a red stain on his white shirt, right where the buttons of his jacket had opened. The red stain kept growing, however, and Jake’s eyes widened slightly, as if surprised by what he was seeing.

Then he collapsed.

Amy couldn’t tell who screamed. If it was Rosa with a loud curse, or if it was her who forgot about the rain and stumbled to his side, dropping to the ground, no thoughts wasted on her white dress getting dirt all over it.

She pressed her hand on the ever-growing blood stain on his stomach. His eyes fluttered closed, losing their struggle to stay opened.

“Jake! Jake, open your eyes!” Amy raised one hand, now covered in blood, to his face. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Peralta! Look at me!” Her voice cracked over the last words and she pressed her thumb down on his cheek, unbeknownst to the tears trailing down her own face. She didn’t hear Rosa call 911, didn’t register the rain soaking her dress, or her hair falling into her face.

Her hand left his face, grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Please, Jake… Don’t do this to me! Open your eyes, talk to me, please stay with me!” The blood was now covering half his shirt. Some of it was on her dress; if it came from her hand or was soaking in from his wound, she didn’t know.

She was sobbing now, panicking, screaming his name, begging him to open his eyes. And then he did.

His eyelids fluttered open halfway, locking with hers. Amy felt a light squeeze on her hand. Then it went limp and his eyes closed again, head lolling to the side.

In the stories, this would have been the moment the dying character wanted to see his loved ones one more time before… No. This wasn’t the stories. This was real life, this was her and Jake’s wedding day, they just got married, despite everything their lives kept throwing at them, and maybe even because of that. They were one. And she wasn’t going to lose her other half, not now, not ever.

The next sob got stuck in her throat. Her mouth opened and shut, as if to keep screaming, but no sound came out. She was still squeezing his hand, waiting for him to squeeze back again, but it remained slack.

Someone tried to pull her away from him. She struggled against it, not ready to leave his side, never ready to do that. Several pairs of strong hands grabbed her and, against her kicking and screaming, moved her under a canopy from where she watched two paramedics stretcher Jake off into an ambulance, out of her sight.

Amy was floating. But not between clouds. She was floating in brackish water, the stream pulling her down, down. A wet grave. The eagle wasn’t soaring anymore. It had been shot. Had plummeted through the clouds, like a stone. Fast, faster, until it crashed, until it hit the water, hard. She was drowning in the rain, in her tears, in her fear.

And gravity pulled her down.

We all know that main characters won’t die, especially not Jake. So I’m all in for this scenario. Btw he was attacked. It was probably some enemy from the latest storyline or a lackey or just some mugger or whatever. Anyway, they probably wrestled and when the gun went off the attacker fled the scene, and it all went very fast. It’s your imagination.